


Find Him

by Elias (nightmareStag)



Series: Night Watch [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Also Izaya being a huge weenie, Bears, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, It's gonna take a while to get to the Shizaya part though, Izaya having limited knowledge of super heros, Izaya is a hero, M/M, One-sided Heiwajima Shizuo/ Vorona, We went there, a BIG plan, and arguing with himself a lot, and his best not being good enough, but its enough to get him started, it might start slow but i promise its gonna get good we have a plan, izaya having a few anxiety attacks, of sorts, oh yeah, superhero au, this entire fic is Izaya trying his best, this is gonna be fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmareStag/pseuds/Elias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Izaya Orihara is hired by the yakuza to find the identity of Ursus, a superhero equipped with super strength and the ability turn into a bear. But in order to do that, he must delve deeper into his own strengths and become his own brand of hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> God I fucking suck at titles. Please, please, please tell me what you think. Like, I want one of those ninth grade english analytical papers. Pick apart by fucking metaphors and find the meaning of shit. 
> 
> Shout out to the co author wolfpoots for being a beta. Couldn't have done this with out you.

Izaya drags the file across his forefinger and middle nail, pushing out his lip in a small pout as his skin caught. Shiki clears his throat from the leather recliner across Izaya’s desk.

“Well? Can you find him?”

Izaya pulls the pad of his thumb across the freshly filed nails. His lips turn into a practiced smile, sweet and ensuring, the way he wants it. He delicately places the file back in his desk drawer and places both of his elbows on the glass surface underneath him. Izaya laces his fingers together under his chin and practically purrs as he speaks.

“Of course I can. How hard can it really be to find the identity of a superhero. Ursus should have known he couldn’t hide forever.”

Izaya smiles as the name rolls off his tongue. If Celty was a marvel in Ikebukuro, Tokyo’s own superhero was miracle.

Ursus Arctos. Grizzly Bear.

The man with super strength that could turn into a bear at his will; enhanced speed, incredible combat sense, and mechanical constructs skills beyond that of any normal human.

And Izaya detests him with every fiber of his being.

How dare this man, if you could even call him that, so violently disrupt the perfect order of Izaya’s humans.

What was it to Izaya if the yakuza wanted his real identity, his real name, his face, his loved ones.

It didn’t concern him.

So it shouldn’t have been surprising to anyone when Izaya deftly extends his hand to accept Shiki’s offer. They shook hands lightly, Izaya biting back the cold shiver of disgust that ran up his spine from the very presence of the other man. Shiki stood and left, tugging the door closed tightly before Izaya let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Slumping down into his desk chair, he knits his fingers together and stares out the window.

Who was he, really?

Ursus.

Izaya thought about him so much it might be considered a mild obsession. His favorite quote comes to mind, “It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.”, said by Oscar Wilde.

So… how would one categorize Ursus?

Most humans would call him charming. He was technically a hero after all. Tedious wasn’t exactly the word Izaya would use to refer to the...abomination.

He was awful; rough and violent. Guttural and feral.

Even when he saved people, those people rarely left without any injuries, whether it be a sprained wrist or a cracked rib. Ursus was hurting Izaya’s humans, and therefore needed to be stopped. Izaya just hadn’t had a direct excuse to pursue him until now.

Izaya sighs heavily and padds into the kitchen. He places his kettle on the stove and begins to heat water as he prepares a cup of tea.

It was different when humans were killing other humans. That was their own free will. However Ursus wasn’t a human, and his continued assault of Izaya’s toys was starting to grate on his nerves.

Ursus wasn’t tedious.

Dealing with Ursus was tedious.

Izaya would never use the word charming to describe him either. Maybe annoying.

However, his hold over the humans of Ikebukuro, while incredibly irritating, was also fascinating. Ursus kept Ikebukuro in line.

In the beginning, when he was just a man/bear decked in metal plating, there was inconceivable fear in his existence. Fear from civilians, fear from the gang leaders and the lawbreakers, even fear from law enforcement.

Vigilante justice _is_ illegal after all.

That’s why Izaya never got into it.

He was in enough illegal activity as it was. There was no use in getting his hands dirty with crime watch when he was normally the one responsible for it.

The kettle whistles. He pours his tea and returns to his desk.

How should he go about doing this?

In order to find the true identity of Ursus, Izaya would have to emerge as his own hero. There was no point in trying to stalk Ursus without his powers, anyway. But before that, he needed to look the part. He turns toward his laptop and begins to type.

S H A D O W  B E N D I N G.

Nothing but the weird avatar OC’s.

S H A D O W  P O W E R S.

The Shade. DC Comics.

Izaya smiles to himself.

A suit and tie, huh?

No, no. That was too predictable.

His fingers tap across the keyboard again.

A cape?

No.

A cloak?

Izaya chuckles, thinking about his costume.

He takes a sip from his tea.

Maybe gloves?

Yes.

Black gloves.

When he uses his powers, it starts with the cold. It descends upon Izaya from the darkest, dirtiest corners of life itself and cascades across his form, into his mind, his body-

_His soul._

__

Then the darkness and shadow.

It’s still so calming to him.

Ever since Izaya was little, he had been able to control shadows. He only did it in front of his parents once, but the result wasn’t pretty. If he remembers correctly, that was when they really began disappearing from his life. The kids at school used to bully him too; Calling him a _monster_. Izaya understood really. He was different and scary and unknown. It’s only human nature to fear the unknown and the more powerful, so when Izaya went to middle school, he built a case study for himself. He watched human reaction and interaction. Only a handful of students knew about his powers, and by the time high school rolled around the rumors had been lost in translation. And even if they hadn’t, that’s all they were... rumors. Shizuo Heiwajima had already made a name for himself as the host for school attention, so anything Izaya had done in the first grade was past tense, and it didn’t matter.

Since he was an adult now, especially with his profession, he was free to use his powers as he pleased. His seemingly supernatural beauty came in handy when getting information. Turns out humans are more willing to give out their personal information to someone they see as beautiful and gentle. It’s amusing to Izaya, really, because of his beauty and rather androgynous body shape, the humans he deals with guess that Izaya isn’t much of a physical threat. They belittle him, to tell the truth; which brings Izaya back to his outfit. He wouldn’t show any of his face.

But back to his gloves.

He’s grinning when the whispers start. The beckoning... the begging; Begging for help. They’re always begging for help. Help that Izaya can’t deliver, and never tried to. He feels the shadow connect with his skin; shrouding him in the cold embrace. It flows like smoke, wrapping itself into the skin around his hands and dissipating into black gloves.

Izaya flips his hands over and inspects his work.

He stands and glances over his shoulder at his back. Now about that cloak. At first, the design resembles something of a floor length pea-coat. Izaya flattens the top and fluffs the bottom. The shadows contort at his will and hug his body snuggly.

The whispers are more like distant shouting.

He strips the buttons and front flaps, leaving the jacket feeling more and more like a long robe.

Hood or no hood?

Izaya walks toward the bathroom; his coat billowing behind him dramatically.

The whispers follow.

He keeps the light off, not wanting to disrupt the darkness surrounding him. Izaya coils his fingers in the shadows around the neck line and pulls it up over his head.

Yes. Definitely a hood.

Izaya’s mind drifts to Ursus’ suit. He had metal plating across his shoulders and down both arms, much like a suit of armor. A large belt with his various hand held tools wrapped tightly around his waist. He was practically painted in white and copper; a very literal white knight. White cloth covered half his face, and was sewn into the big copper goggles covering his eyes. His crest was emblazoned on all of his armor; the silhouette of a bear’s head with the Ursa Major constellation underneath it.

Izaya then drifts to his sidekick, Helectric. She was his own little Robin, only coming around when she was ‘needed.’ Her only real purpose is to jump the mechanics in Ursus’ suit if he should run out of power. She was dressed similarly to a sun bear, pulling her powers of electric contortion from the crest of a bear paw on her chest.

Both were big, bulky, and slow.

The opposite of what Izaya wanted to be.

He chooses to cover his skin entirely with the darkness; sleek and form fitting. Something akin to a morph suit.

Oh, maybe not on the sleeves.

He strips the shadows up to the shoulder and allows the jacket sleeves to slip over the gloves. Pale flesh peeks out behind the black, snow white under the dark covering.

It still looks a little too clean.  

Pulling harshly at the hems of the cloak, Izaya forces the sleeves and tail to appear almost burned, much like ash.

Izaya pulls his power into his core and watches as the smoke seeps out of his gloves.

Now for his eyes.

He needs eye holes right?

Well, no not really. But it would look nice. Aesthetic, he promises himself, grinning beneath the shadow.

Two elegantly thin sections of void strip away to reflect glowing red underneath his hood.

He spins around, much like a child, and giggles incredulously.  

It’s perfect.

Haunting red eyes, black suit, dark gloves.

Mystery and magic. All wrapped up in a neat, cold little package.

Izaya was cold to the touch, like ice.

It was quite fitting.

He smiles morbidly at the silence that greets him after willing away the shadows. Izaya stalks back over to his desk and sips his tea, nose wrinkling in disgust. The tea had gone cold. Deciding that he’s had enough frozen things, he returns to the kitchen to pour out the rest of it.

Grabbing a red apple, Izaya leans back against the kitchen counter and takes a bite.

While he’s at it, he might as well find out who Helectric is. Once Ursus is gone, she’s gonna have to stand up as the new hero. Izaya smiles bitterly. The blonde curls are a little overdone aren’t they? She needs to update her style.

He takes another bite.

Maybe she should dye her hair the same color as her blue suit. That would fit better. Once Izaya finds out who she really is, he’ll drop the idea to her. A grin splits his face again.

He rolls his tongue over the porcelain fangs in his mouth, digging at a piece of apple skin wedged between his teeth. Maybe that was the closest thing to Ursus, Izaya thought, as he pulled the sliver free and swallows it.

He was a thorn in Izaya’s side.. Something in his teeth... Something that needs to be removed.

Izaya runs a tongue over his teeth again and bites down sharply. Blood flows into his mouth, metallic and sharp. It’s heavy, and it keeps him grounded as the pain throbs through him.

He swallows some of the blood, and takes another bite of the apple.

The acidity seeps into cut with a sting and he laughs again, nearly choking as he does so.

He sucks on his tongue for a bit and tosses out the rest of the apple, walking towards his desk. He sits down again and looks up Ursus again.

A man that can turn into a bear, huh?  

C H I L D  T H A T  T U R N S  I N T O  A  B E A R

Nothing but Ursus and hoax articles.

He sighs. Maybe there’s something with the girl.

G I R L  E L E C T R I C  P O W E R S

Finally, something interesting.

There's an article from a small publishing corporation about a girl who blew up a fuze box. Witnesses say it was with her bare hands. This could be som- wait...

This article is from ‘92.

The ‘ _young girl_ ’ was actually 17.

A frown tugs at Izaya’s lips.

She didn’t look that old, he thought. Maybe it was her mother...? Or maybe it was her and she was actually much older than Izaya thought she was. He’d never really been up close to her. The idea of Helectric being a forty year old woman running around with Ursus was almost laughable.

Izaya comes back to the desktop computer to his left and goes to the Dollars’ website. He signs into the chat forum as Kanra.

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Hello /////∩|･ิω･ิ▰|∩_

__

> _Setton logged in._

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _Hey Kanra._

__

Ah, Celty. It was odd to him, Izaya thought. There were so many similarities in their powers. However, even when she wanted to, Celty’s shadows could never hurt anyone.

Izaya’s could.

He had done it before.

And he had no doubts in his mind that he would do it again.

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Nothin much! Wat about u?_

__

> _Tarō Tanaka logged in._

__

> _Tarō Tanaka:_
> 
> _Hi everyone._

__

Mikado... The leader of the Dollars. Izaya’s dark smile stretches across his face. Mikado was one of Izaya’s favorites. He was just surprising enough to Izaya to be deemed interesting, but not so much so that he was tedious.

Like that protozoan.

That violent, angry protozoan.

That...

_Monster_.

An audible hiss slips past Izaya’s lips. He was a _monster_. Shizuo Heiwajima was a _monster_ , and Izaya hated him entirely. There was no place for monsters among his toys.

Heiwajima wouldn’t even be that bad if he didn’t abuse that strength of his. He used it at his own damn will and it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Izaya’s mouth. There's nothing he hated more than when the game was so unfair there was no chance of success.

So Izaya refrained from using his powers in the event of a physical altercation.

It was the only thing that kept him from becoming a _monster_ too.

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _How are you??_

__

> _Tarō Tanaka:_
> 
> _I’m alright. What about you Setton?_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _Actually, I’ve heard some strange things._

 

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _(ﾒ・ん・)？_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _Some people are saying that the dollars are coming after Ursus._

__

Izaya’s smile tugs down. How had he not heard about this? Furthermore, why?

__

> _Tarō Tanaka:_
> 
> _What??_

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Oh no!!!_

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Y would we do smth like that???_

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Thats so MEAN!_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _I’m not exactly sure where this rumor started, but I do know that it’s wrong._

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _It is wrong right, Tarō?_

__

Izaya peers closer to his screen.

> _Tarō Tanaka:_
> 
> _Of course it is. Sorry guys I gotta make a phone call._

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Aw wat?? Dont leave kanra-chan and setton-san like that!!!!_

__

> _Tarō Tanaka:_
> 
> _Sorry!_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _Yeah I should probably go too._

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _ლ(∘◕‵ƹ′◕ლ)_

__

> _Tarō Tanaka has signed out._

__

> _Setton has signed out._

__

Izaya pounds his fist into the table in anger. His shadows surround him like a cloud to cool his nerves.

> _Kanra has signed out._

Izaya returns to his laptop sharply and opens the Dollar’s website. He sniffs around the various threads and forums, but he found nothing. Opening a private message on his desktop, Izaya continues to search for anything about the Dollars attacking Ursus.

> _Kanra joined this private chat._

__

> _Setton joined this private chat._

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Where did Setton hear this rumor, hm??_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _I think I saw a thread about it. Are you a fan of him?_

Just at the thought, the bitter taste of bile rises at the back of his throat. As if Izaya would allow himself to be whisked away by the image of that beast.  

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Yes! yes!_

He swallows the acidity.

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Kanra-chan loves, loves, loves her boo bear._

__

A dry laugh slips past his lips.

> _Setton:_
> 
> _The thread I saw was pretty small. I think it got deleted. I could be wrong? Maybe it was about the yellow scarves… it seems right up their alley._

__

Izaya purses his lips in thought. He’ll have to send for Maosomi to explain this.

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _╰(✧∇✧╰)//// Yay! Kanra-chan is so happy! Her boo bear can handle a couple huffy stuffy yellow scarves!!_

__

> _Setton:_
> 
> _I’m sure he’ll be fine. Bye Kanra._

__

> _Kanra:_
> 
> _Au revoir mon capitane! Kanra-chan awaits our next convo!!_

__

> _Setton has signed out._

__

> _Kanra has signed out._

__

> _There is no one in this chat._

Izaya sits back from his computer, his nerves calmed a bit from the previous... what even was that?

Fear?

Dread?

Izaya purses his lips again. He chalks it up to not wanting to be in the middle of a fight he didn’t create. There’s a lot of stress accompanied with being a dollar during a time of conflict, and it serves no greater purpose than to complicate Izaya’s life.

Especially if that conflict involved a superhero.

The word seems so juvenile to Izaya. He runs his tongue over his teeth again, just to sharpen the sting from the healing bite. By now, Namie had been long gone and the light of the city was illuminating the darkness Izaya thrived in.

He moves upstairs and slips into his bedroom, and the whispers start as soon as the door slips closed behind him. Izaya pads into the bathroom and flicks on the light. There’s a sharp hiss behind him.

He smiles faintly at the porcelain floors, counters, and toilets. Smooth black cabinets and walls, accompanied by silver finishes complete the look of Izaya’s monochromatic aesthetic. Izaya flicks on his shower to something uncharacteristically warm. It’s hot actually. He wants to burn.

Izaya chews on his tongue while he waits for the shower to heat up.

He pulls open the glass door and steps into the tile shower.  Izaya sighs contently as the water kisses his skin bright red against the pale flesh.

God, it burns.

Izaya loves his shower. The rain head in the center, an infinity drain, the black stained glass doors and reflective tile... everything was perfect. The noise of the water falling drowns out all other sounds.

He stands a little taller, roughly cracking his neck as his body absorbs the feverish warmth. It was ridiculously intense.

Izaya grabs the bottle of shampoo.

Worst case scenario, Izaya would get seriously hurt and have to go to Shinra. Maybe it was better if Shinra knew ahead of time so that if Izaya did get seriously hurt, Shinra wouldn’t freak out when he willed his shadows away.

He rinses the soap from his hair and grabs his conditioner.

He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it, he concludes, and turns up the water a bit. While Izaya’s knowledge is limited to the basics about superheroes, he figures he’ll just pull a SpiderMan and suit up and drift around the city until he finds some crime to hault. With all of the human trafficking, it shouldn’t be too hard.

His fingers dance around his various scented body soaps. He should use something he doesn’t normally. Shizu-chan claims to be able to track his scent, so Izaya needs something powerful. Heaven forbid he runs into that beast tonight. He plucks a dark bottle from the shelf, and brings it to his nose. The image of rain freshly falling on a silent forest. Combined with the burnt ash smell from his powers, Izaya should be covered.

He scrubs the soap into his raw skin harshly to add to the irritation, grinning. Izaya rinses the conditioner from his hair and skin and grabs his exfoliator. He ponders for a bit if Shizu-chan even knows what exfoliator is before laughing audibly at his stupidity.

After washing his face, Izaya gingerly steps out of the shower into the cold and wraps a fluffy white towel around his waist. He grabs another one, this one gray, and haphazardly tosses it over his head and shoulders.

What should he wear? Should he even dress at all? He supposes he technically doesn’t need to, since everything will be covered with shadows. Wait... aren’t Celty’s clothes made of shadows, and if so… does that mean that she’s just naked all the time?

Izaya nearly buckles over in laughter at the thought. He remembers asking Celty about whether or not a spotlight would shine bright enough to penetrate her shadows. She asked if he wanted to find out, and Izaya arrogantly sneered about Shinra’s sexual and romantic preferences.

He resolves that, yes, he will wear clothes in the event of any... _unforeseen circumstances_ , and pulls out a pair of black basketball shorts from his dark wood dresser. Izaya slides those on over his boxers and rushedly towel dries his hair before discarding both towels onto his bed. He slips on a short-sleeved pull over hoodie. It’s a little lazy for his taste, but it will have to do. A smile slips its way into his face as he laces up his pair of combat boots. Admittedly, he looks a little ridiculous, but his outfit was efficient. At least that’s what he tells himself as he grabs his towels as he stands up. Izaya deposits them in a tucked away laundry basket and skips back down stairs.

It’s a quarter till ten by the time Izaya is ready. He thinks that before he takes on the big bear, he might want to make a name for himself. He can’t have Ursus thinking that he’s nothing more than a frivolous kid in a suit. Izaya turns all the lights off and slips out of the dark apartment. He locks the door, pulls his hood up high over his head, and turns on his heels to the stairs. Izaya would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. He’d never used his powers in combat aside from throwing that kid that broke his favorite car in the first grade.

Izaya throws open the door to the roof and stands in the middle. He’s illuminated by the lights below him and the glow of the moon above him. Turning his head to follow the whispers, Izaya listens to his shadows. While normally all they did was scream for help, hidden within the begging was answers; answers to questions Izaya couldn’t find. It was part of what made him such a good informant. The darkness is everywhere, and Izaya had a pair of eyes in every corner.

The shadows tell him that he is alone, no one’s watching him, so he pulls in his strength to his center and allows the shadows to cover himself. He stands there for a minute in all his glory and allows his shadows to pool underneath him like a dark fog before dissipating into the air.

Izaya ponders for a minute on the fact that he probably looks more like a villain than any hero, but it is what it is. Pulling his feet off the ground, Izaya’s shadows catch his weight and carry him to the other side of the roof. He snickers lightly at his own glibness; gliding around on the air like a penguin on ice. He floats down to the building to his left, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any signs of crime. He pushes himself through the air to the tallest building on the block. Tucking his legs underneath him, Izaya peers over the edge of the skyscraper. He closes his eyes and focuses on the dark alleys where people are taken, drugs are sold and murders are committed. There’s nothing for a while; only squeaking rats and a few petty pot deals.

But then he sees it. A boy, maybe eight, being forced onto a wall by another boy, this one much older. Izaya would place him in his late teens. He keeps the scene in his head as he slips off the roof, willing the shadows to let him fall. He hears someone beneath him gasp at the sight of someone falling, and pulls in the darkness to shoot him off in the direction of the alley. He grins as he hears the gasps and yelling of the people around him as he shoots past. Izaya takes a hard left and slips through the dark. He feels hands on him, like he normally does when he travels in the shadows. They grab and tug roughly on him. They’re screaming when Izaya tugs his way out into the corner of an alley way.

“Hold still-”

“I want my mommy!”

“Shut the fuck up, brat!”

Izaya flinches when the older boy drives his fist into the stomach of the smaller. He slams his hand over the little boy’s mouth and throws his forehead into the brick walls.

“If you say a fucking word I’ll kill you.”

Izaya goes to take a step forward, but feels three hands slam onto his forearm.

_...Think..._

Right. How should he go about this. He can’t exactly beat the guy up and go on his way, can he?

No...

You can’t kill a weed by pulling off the leaves.

Izaya uses his shadows to cup two hands over the eyes and ears of the little boy, and pulls him through the wall behind Izaya.

Obviously, both boys are startled, and Izaya has to suppress a laugh.

“What the fuck _are_ you? Get out of here you piece of shit.”

Izaya scoffs at the brute- even Shizu-chan wasn’t this rude! Izaya protectively taps the head of the small boy and turns him to face the wall. As the child turns, he stares fearfully at Izaya’s glowing eyes.

Izaya thinks about his next course of action. On one hand, he can rough this guy up a little and deposit him to the authorities, but on the other...

_“If you saw weeds in your garden, you’d pluck them, wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. So if there’s a human that is hurting the other humans...”_

Izaya rears his shadows into a large black spike and slams it through the chest of the assailant. The air reeks of iron, and he can feel the blood through his shadows. Izaya stops for a minute and thinks, perhaps a little too late, that maybe he took this a bit far. However, when this man dies, the boy behind him will never have to worry again. Neither will any other child that will ever come across him... Or any child he’s already abused. Any empathy Izaya held drained instantly. The spike, still rammed in his chest, split open into many more; one through his liver, two in his heart, three in his stomach and intestines, two in the back, and finally, one, the largest, out through the top of his head.

There was blood _everywhere_.

Izaya was too focused on the screaming of his shadows to notice the gurgle and a sob die out from the older kid. He spun the main spike up and slammed the dead carcass against the near stone wall. More blood splattered against it on impact. Izaya glides towards the body. Every hole Izaya had made was surrounded in an ashen ring of black.

_Interesting_ Izaya thinks as he forces the darkness back to its rightful place.

The blood that was on his spike collides with the ground with a loud splat. Izaya turns around and faces the little boy again, who had been strangely silent during the entire ordeal. His chin is practically hanging at his chest when Izaya sees him.

“That... was... fricking _awesome_!!! You were all like wooosh and he was all like ‘what are you’ and you just-”

He flails his arms to emphasize Izaya’s brutal stabbing.

“You were amazing!!”

Izaya’s heart swells a little. It was cute, without a doubt, his enthusiasm for Izaya reminded him of that innocent child-like wonder. Izaya had just slaughtered a man in front of him, he had almost been raped; yet here he was, looking at Izaya as though he was a god.

He extended his hand to the little boy, which he eagerly took, and Izaya hauled him onto his shoulders. The boy cheered loudly as he was pulled up.

“Can you take me home?” he asks.

Izaya nods and smiles at the exclamation of joy he receives. The boy wraps his short arms around Izaya’s neck, and barks out directions. At first, Izaya debates using his powers to phase to the boy’s address, but then decides that that would take away the effect of being saved. And on top of that, the more people that see him the easier it would be for word to get back to Ursus.

He pushes himself to the top of the building the boy was shoved against and flits across the platform before gliding from rooftop to rooftop. The little boy directs him to turn left, so Izaya drifts off of the building. Keeping a firm grip on the child, he flies in between traffic, being egged on by the gleeful screams in his ear.    

Izaya smiles confidently at the people hollering and taking pictures. He should be cover news by morning, if not in a few hours.

The boy on Izaya’s back points out a small apartment building near the Shimo-Ochiai station. He was very close to the heart of Ikebukuro; much closer than he would have liked.

Izaya lands delicately on sidewalk in front of the building. He bends down as the boy releases. A small crowd has gathered around to watch the scene.

“Thank you so much!” The boy cheers. “You saved my life!”

Izaya pats his head and ushers him inside the building. A woman, presumably his mother, is interrogating the poor young man at the front desk.

The little boy calls out, there’s hugging and as Izaya prepares to leave valiantly like the mysterious hero he’s trying to be, but feels a sharp tug at his cloak. The boy’s mother pulls Izaya into a crushing hug, and Izaya tries his best to not immediately push her away. He very awkwardly pats her back reassuringly and waits for her to let go. Once she does, he realizes she’s crying and is doing his best to leave without making the experience of almost losing her son even more traumatic. She’s still thanking him when she finally lets go and returns to her son. The crowd outside is starting to pour in through the front doors, and Izaya can feel the bristling of a panic attack coat his nerves. This room is too well lit for Izaya to just faze out.

There’s too much light.

There’s too much noise.

He needs to get out before he breaks down.

He needs to... shut off the light.

He pulls in the darkness nearby to himself. It’s much harder than it normally is, most of the physical shadow dissipating in the corners. The people keep coming in. They’re asking names, taking pictures, and the minute a hand reaches his hood, it’s like a latch. Shadow fills the room like a wave. The power has long gone out, and Izaya’s ears are assaulted with the violent blood curdling screams. He allows himself to be swallowed, hoping no one else is being caught in his darkness. He feels silence and slowly strips his bubble away.

Izaya’s on a rooftop when he gets his bearings. He looks up and frowns slightly, unable to make out any stars. While a rooftop is familiar to him, it isn’t exactly a good location qualifier. He tip toes to the edge of the building and glances over the edge. Oh! He’s on the top of the apartment building. Izaya really needs to get that under control. He breathes a sigh of relief. Ironically enough, the last time he did that, he ended up in the caverns of Onigashima. That was awkward to explain to the tour guides. Izaya turns back to the center of the building.

Izaya had visited the caverns before. He remembers his favorite story from his childhood, Momotarō, the peach boy. He was born from a peach, and at a young age he packed Kibidango and headed off to the caverns to subjugate the demons living there. Along the way, he came across a dog, a monkey and a Japanese pheasant, and together they defeated the demons, took back the treasure the monsters had stolen, and returned peace to the world. Some of his nannies took him to that island when he was young. He remembers the brightly coloured, burlesque demon sculptures tucked into the dark corners of the caves. Looking back on it now, he knows his parents only sent him on this trip so he couldn’t be with them when they were in Japan.

It was a strange moment for Izaya when he realized that even his own parents feared him.

He sighs and shakes the nostalgia away. Memories tend to help him deal with anxiety. Izaya’s breathing levels out, and he peeks over the roof’s ledge again. The crowd has dissipated, many of them posting or chatting about the most recent events.

He stands up, slowly, and embarks south again toward Shinjuku. He’s very tired. Izaya is bouncing between the rooftops above the empty allyways. Now that he’s thinking about it, Izaya has never used his powers like this before, at least never to this capacity. He never realized how _draining_ it all is. He skips over the Kanda River, and just barely makes it before his body gives out. Izaya crashes into the concrete bank under the bridge, his shadows spilling out around him in a hazy circle of ash.

_It looks like a rocket crashed_ , Izaya thinks weakly as he fights off the darkness spilling into his consciousness.

The whispers are back, feebly telling him to rest. They do this when he overworks himself. Izaya pushes himself into a sitting position and scoots his back against the wall. The shadows dance around him in a swirling pattern as he wills away his suit. It’s taking too much energy to maintain. A smirk tugs his lips, thinking about how humorous this would be if he had decided he didn’t need any clothes. A sharp wind bounces off the waves, and Izaya delicately wraps his arms around his bare legs.

What was he even doing out here?

From early on in his childhood he was so harshly reminded that his powers were evil and they turned him into a mon-...

His smile falters.

He’s only a few minutes from the heart of Ikebukoro. As much as he loves playing with his Shizu _-chan_ , Izaya was in no position to take him on. A couple of teenage girls cross over the bridge, and Izaya tips his ear toward the sky.

“Oh my god! He was so cute!”

“Nori, you didn’t even see him! You just saw the same thread on the doll-”

“Shhh!!! Akane, you can’t just announce that _we’re a part of the dollars!_ ”

Izaya rolls his eyes at the girl, presumably Nori’s, attempt at whispering.  

“But anyway,” Nori yells again, “Those pictures don’t lie. He’s so cute!!”

Akane audibly scoffs. “They weren’t even good pictures. It just looks like a vaguely… humanoid shape.”

Both girls stop and lean over the bridge, and Izaya silently skirts deeper underneath it.

“But,” Nori sings, “He was saving a little boy.”

“No one even knows if it’s a boy, Nori. You’re just trusting what the website said about It-... It-... however you pronounce his name.”

Nori stomps, “It- _zal_! His name is Itzal! It means shadow or something in Hebrew. Come on- It isn’t that hard to pronounce.”

“Don’t act like you just know Hebrew. You Googled it didn’t you?”

“Akane, why do have to rain on my parade?”

“Your hovercraft is full of eels.”

 

“That’s so _rude_ , Akane!” Nori cries.

Akane sneers, “It’s true though.”

“Well whatever,” she objects. “Itzal is awesome and hot af. Do you think he knows Ursus?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Akane sighs though her nose. “Do you think either of them know the headless rider?”

“Oh please, Akane, he’s old news.”

“How do you know they’re a boy?”

“How do you know he’s not?”

“Nori, you can’t just assume someone’s gender because of physical appearance.”

“Well what do you want me to do, judge his face? Oh wait?!”

Izaya suppresses a laugh at Celty’s expense; It was amazing how ignorant humans were.

“Shove it, Nori.”

Nori laughs, “Come on! Let’s go see if he’s still out there!”

Izaya hears the quick struggling from her companion before their footsteps fade south. He slips Nakura’s phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie and goes to the dollar’s website. All of the threads on the main board are about the same thing.

_Itzal: The shadow man._

Izaya scoffs, _‘the shadow man’... really?_

He pushes himself to his feet, feeling physically better, but mentally jipped. He pulls on his suit before climbing over the bridge railing. Izaya glances around for a minute and sighs in contentment at the emptiness. It was rare to find an urban area so quiet.

He’s very tired.

Izaya takes off again, following the same route going southwest. He’s passing over a few unnamed streets and leaping across rooftops before coming to a halt at the edge of Toyama Park. He slips to the ground and strolls down the path. As much as Izaya loves the urban centers of Tokyo, it’s moments like this, when the only sound he can hear is his breathing and his footsteps, that he feels most at peace. He inhales deeply and frowns in distaste, understanding what Shingen means when he rambles about pollution in Tokyo’s air.

He could never see himself living in the country. Izaya decided from a young age that the rural lifestyle just wasn’t for him. He just wasn’t _built_ for the intensive labor it took to maintain an existence in what, to Izaya, was the damn frontier. He needed his modern comforts like internet and heated floors.

He slips past the Shinjuku Sports Center. Why they decided to place it in the middle of the park escapes Izaya, but he uses it to shoot off the grounds from the roof. He flies west for a bit, attempting to get a little more publicity before slipping home. Izaya suppresses a yawn and lands between the Yamanote and Seibu Shinjuku Line, sauntering between the railways.

Izaya is a little surprised to tell the truth. Shinjuku was anything but safe, and Ikebukuro was even worse. He feels a little cheated, seeing as any comic and superhero movie uses the trope of beautiful girl screaming for help from a nasty assailant. All Izaya got was a small child who was almost raped and a near panic attack as a result. Forget their experience, where’s Izaya’s cliche? He frowns again realizing that maybe it’s a good thing he was swindled from the involvement. His muscles ache, his ears hurt, and he really just wants to go to bed.

His train of thought is interrupted as he notices a Toyota Aqua hurtling toward him through the air. Before he can actually process the flying car, it slams into him, and he grinds against the pavement of the Okubo Elementary School playground. He manages to roll out of the way before a lamp post penetrates the concrete. At first, Izaya thinks that maybe Shizuo smelled through his disguise, and has a momentary meltdown, but then he spots the bear crest and copper armor shining brightly under the light of the moon.

Izaya uses his shadows to stand upright, surrounding himself in darkness and frowns. This isn’t happening according to schedule. Ursus was striding over the train tracks, his goggles blocking his eyes, but the scowl in his lip evident as he growls.

“I don’t know who you are,” His voice sounds forced to a lower tone, and Izaya figures it’s all part of keeping that _secret identity_ under lock and key, “but you look like bad news, and I’ve already got enough of that to deal with.”

He’s much ruder than Izaya had anticipated, and he doesn’t stop the grimace from etching into his features. Ursus can’t see his face anyway.

Izaya remains silent as Ursus advances, tearing the lamp post out of the ground with a feral growl. He swings, the post dissipates some of Izaya’s shadows and gets dangerously close to his nose. Izaya’s having flashbacks to Shizu-chan. He does a handful of consecutive backflips and wills his shadows to just _shut up_ cause _he is not going to run_. Izaya shakes his head violently and Ursus lunges, mechanical claws already ripping out of his gauntlets. He slashes with each hand, each swipe getting closer and closer to slicing Izaya into pieces.

He’s much faster than he looks.

With each step he can feel himself approaching his limit. If he wasn’t already about to collapse, he was definitely ready to now.

Worry starts to work its way into his mind, and in a final feat of solid power, Izaya slips through the darkness cast over the playground and teleports to standing on top of the swing set railing. Izaya crouches down, and part of him hopes that Ursus doesn’t find him.

This was happening too fast. Izaya figured he had at least a couple of days before this inevitable event took place. His balance is starting to waiver, and just as his footing starts to slip, The _entire playground set slams into the swings_. The swingset is no longer underneath him, and he drops, eating the pavement for the second time that evening. He suppresses a chuckle because, while the wind did just get knocked out of him, he bit his tongue when his jaw hit the ground. The iron from the blood in his mouth fills his nose and a frown tugs his lips.

Izaya decides he should just do what he can to fight back because, after all, this is getting a little ridiculous. Izaya looks up and slides out of the way as the same damn lamp post is launched for his head again.

Izaya really needs a weapon; he misses his knives.

Izaya slips through the shadows and pops up directly behind Ursus. He wills the darkness to take the form of a knife and wraps his fingers around the cold handle. He slashes across Ursus’ back. The scent of blood fills his nose. Ursus turns around and throws a punch as predicted, Izaya easily dodges and Izaya slams his shadows into his chest. Seeing as Ursus is no good dead to him, Izaya rounds off the point of his shadow pike. The blunt force pushes him back a couple of meters, and Izaya can see that Ursus is getting to be really, _really_ pissed off.

Izaya can’t help but smirk.

Ursus takes hold of the pike, which has a) never happened before, and b) actually hurts like a lot, and Izaya has to fight the strangled gasp that slips out as gravity seems a lot heavier than before. It felt like fire enveloped him as thickly as the cold does. He throws it off of his chest and the shadows vanish with it. Izaya slips backwards and crouches to the ground, not trusting his legs to support his weight any longer.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Ursus growls.

Izaya suppresses a wince.

“Who are you? What are you?!” Ursus is yelling now.

Izaya coughs a little, the blood from his tongue filling up his mouth. He pitches his voice a little and imitates an American accent in his Japanese.

“Does it matter?”

Ursus shoots him a quizzical look.

He fixes his face and glares. “Yes it does. Once you showed up, there was a dead body in an alleyway.”

“You can’t pin that on me,” Izaya smirks.

Ursus is fuming, “Yes! I can! There’s no one else that could cover that innocent man’s body in black shit. Not counting that half the city took pictures of you around the scene. And on top of that, you blew out the power for a whole city block with your little stunt!”

Izaya stands again, still feeling woozy. “Well if you must know, that _innocent man_ would have raped a little boy by now if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Ursus pauses.

“I’m on your side,” Izaya states flatly in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

“No one on my side ends another human life.”

Izaya scoffs, “Oh please. Do you know how many rapists actually see trial? If I released him to the police, he would have been back on the street by morning. Don’t you think this city has enough sexual predators? He got what he deserved.”

Izaya is actually starting to get irritated by this oaf. How dare he try to make Izaya feel guilty for ending that filth’s life.

“Is that your justification? You can’t just end a life without consequences.”

“Then I take the burden of my actions in exchange for that little boy’s piece of mind.”

Ursus is staring him down again, trying to decide whether Izaya is lying or not.

“It’s still murder.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Izaya jeers, “Think of it like this. If you found a weed, you know, a _parasite_ hiding amongst the others, hurting and abusing the other plants in your garden, you’d remove it. So that’s what I did. I removed the weed.”

Ursus seemed calmer, “It’s still...”

Izaya sighs, he’s weak and needs to get home. He shortens the space between them, now within armspan. “I’ll let you think about it. I feel like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

Izaya flew off back toward Shinjuku, glancing behind him to make sure that Ursus was still standing amidst the destroyed playground equipment with a blank face, lost in thought.

He takes off again, using his power to shoot off into the night. With the darkness slipping around him, Izaya slips out of the city atmosphere and into the silence of his home. He wills his shadows away and moves into the bathroom, wiggling his toes against the heated porcelain beneath him with a sigh. Izaya tugs his sweater off and hisses at the tug on his muscles, there’s a nasty welt across his torso, and from the feel of it, he’s got at least a couple broken ribs. There’s a couple scratches on his face, the deepest across his cheek. Nothing too severe, but the road rash on his hands and face does sting a little.

Izaya grabs his first aid kit and slowly removes the bandages. He applies some disinfectant, wincing at the sting, and wraps his hands tightly. He squeezes some neosporin on a cloth pad and presses it against his cheek, taping it in place, and deciding that he’ll just go see Shinra in the morning about his ribs.

Izaya has never used his powers that much before, and he’s extremely worn out. Maybe he’ll take tomorrow off. His exhaustion is seeping through his muscles and into his bones. He thanks whatever god he doesn’t believe in that the whispers have stopped completely.

Despite what his body is telling him, Izaya goes downstairs. He knows that if he doesn’t at least rehydrate, he’ll feel sick _and_ hurt in the morning. He slams a bottle of water and trudges his way back up the god forsaken stairs. He’s too tired to live in a two story home. Izaya haphazardly tosses the bottle in the direction of his night stand, and can’t be bothered to care when it takes out his lamp. He’ll just buy another one tomorrow. He kicks off his boots, taking only one of his socks off and falls on his bed. He dwells for a minute on how much of a mess he is, bandaged, stiff, and sore with broken glass scattered across the dark wood floors. Not to mention the one sock on his left foot. But he doesn’t care. He’s tired and cold, but it’s quiet and he’s covered in the silk of his blankets.

 **  
** So he closes his eyes and sleeps. He sleeps until tomorrow; where he has to own up to the fact that he just _killed_ another human, has to lie to his only real friend, and has to pretend that he didn’t just break his own personal ethical code and do the _one thing_ he promised he wouldn’t do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Бе́шеной соба́ке семь вёрст не крюк." means "To a mad dog, a seven mile extension is not a long detour"
> 
> "интересный посло́вица" means "Interesting Proverb"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha Chapter 2!!

When the sun breaches Izaya’s bedroom window, he groans and tugs the comforter over his head.

Which evidently was a very bad idea as he gasps in pain and tenses up before deciding that hiding his face is _definitely not worth this bullshit_. Against his better judgement, Izaya sits up and sweeps his feet over the edge of the bed. He’s sore, his head aches, and he’s so goddamn cold he’s starting to shiver.

At least he notices the broken glass on the floor before stomping to the bathroom. He groans and stands, choking on air when the pain slams into him; much like that piece of shit aqua did last night.

He’s very bitter.

Izaya creeps around the glass, feeling regretful for his negligence, and glances mournfully at his broken lamp. God, his ribs are killing him. His breathing is labored by the time he gets to the bathroom. Dark purple splotches cover his pale skin, and Izaya is definitely sure his ribs are broken. He peels off the bandage, wincing as the tape tugs at his face. Jeez, it looks like he snuggled with a piece of sandpaper.

Izaya turns on his shower and does his best to keep from moving too much. As much as he wants to take a bath, he’s got dried blood caked on his face and he’s covered in the slime of old sweat. He steps underneath the stream and hisses again when the pressure irritates his ribs. He scrubs at his skin, and it doesn’t take him long the notice that this oil seemingly stuck to his skin is not from sweat.

He killed someone.

Izaya actually _ended a life_.

Sure, he had talked people into suicide, but that was worlds away from killing someone _directly_. Izaya executed that man on the grounds of a crime he had the potential to commit. How had he spoken so casually about it to Ursus?

Speaking of, he was right. Izaya was a murderer, and regardless of reasoning, a murder is a murder. At least that’s what Izaya had grown up thinking. On the other hand, if Izaya hadn’t stepped in, that little boy would have been raped. Izaya decides that, along with the people who murder children, rapists deserve no mercy from a god like himself. With his tenacity back, Izaya comes to the conclusion that, for the safety of his toys, he will take it upon himself to remove the ones causing the most harm.

The weight of this ‘oil’ on his skin - this disgust, is his burden to bare, and he will take it in stride. Plenty of other people do.

He scrubs, silently hoping that that entire monologue was all for naught and that he’s just being dramatic as always, but after his skin starts to burn and turn red with his vigour, Izaya sighs in defeat. He washes his hair, with his normal soaps, and takes a shaky breath. He can do this. He hasn’t lost his lunch yet. With a final rinse over his protesting muscles, Izaya glides out of the shower and into his room.

Damn glass.

Izaya tugs on one of his pairs of jeans and an old red tee shirt. He really needs to go see Shinra. He slips out of his room, moving slowly as to avoid any additional injury. He creeps slowly down the stairs, vehemently avoiding Namie’s quizzical gaze.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Her voice grates on his headache.

He forces a smirk to his lips and wraps his arm around his waist. “That’s rather rude, Namie. I held back that comment when I first met you.”

The face she pulls makes up for the pain associated with laughing at her.

“You’re such a child,” she shoots back, and Izaya notes the scowl she sports.

With slight difficulty, Izaya tugs on his jacket, ignoring Namie’s eyes boring into his back.

“That road rash on your face looks like it hurts.”

Izaya bites his tongue, “I’m fine.”

He slips his shoes on and grabs a few of his phones, leaving Nakura, Kanra, and Chrome’s behind. He doesn’t need them today.

“I’m going out. Before I get back I need you to sweep up some broken glass in my room and replace the lamp.”

“I’m not your housekeeper, Izaya,” She near growls.

He sighs, “No you’re not, however, I pay you too much for what little you’re doing anyway.”

He smirks at the way she freezes every time he mentions her paycheck. He understands. Money is very important to him too. While Namie uses her money to solidify her nearly incestuous relationship with her younger brother, Izaya uses his money to establish his power. It’s all he is.

“You’re done for the day once you do that,” he adds, hoping to reduce some of her noncompliance.

He doesn’t give her time to reply. His head is throbbing, and it’s making his vision swim.

Izaya takes the elevator, which isn’t something he usually does. He always prefers the stairs, but with his ribs screaming in protest at his every movement, he needs to take it easy. Much of Izaya’s support is heavily dependent on the wall, and he entertains the thought of just hailing a cab. Of course his pride won’t let him; Izaya _does_ have an image to maintain. With a rough shove, he forces himself to stand straight and pushes the pain down. Izaya, forcing a poker face to mask how hurt he is, almost cries when he makes it to the ground floor. He nearly jogs out of the building and hisses under his breath when the sunlight hits his face.

He whips his hood up, and hopes that the brute doesn’t cross his path before he can get to Shinra. Izaya remains in the crowds. Even though his head is pounding, and he wants to be as far away from anyone and anything as possible, so he stays in the crowds. As an informant, it’s Izaya’s job to blend in, but with Shizuo’s monstrous nose, he prays that he won’t be sniffed out.

His fingers are starting to tremble with exhaustion and pain by the time he passes the border into Ikebukuro’s district line. Izaya hears Kida call his name, and he dives down the nearest alleyway.

There was an obscene amount of people packed into the alley way.

A dull roar reverberates throughout the crowd. Most of the crowd is teenagers being shushed away by the nearby police officers, but how could a few cops keep such a crowd from one of the most _gruesome_ recent murders in the Tokyo area.

_Oh that’s right_ , Izaya realizes clandestinely, _I just left him there_.

Izaya backs out of the alley again, trying his damndest not to seem suspicious. His head is reeling; How could he have been so ignorant as to just _leave the body_. He should have gone back when Ursus mentioned the corpse, but he was so jazzed about stumping him so easily it must have just slipped his mind. Izaya nearly rips his personal phone from his pocket and opens his web browser.

While the police are on high alert for the murderer, and everyone is raving about Izaya’s last night endeavours, miraculously, no one seems to have made the connection.

Except for the Dollars. Almost every thread on the main message board is filled with messages about how Itzal is obviously responsible for the murder. Izaya skims the first few. Some of them claim he just killed him in cold blood. Others say they saw him steal a little boy from the man. Izaya’s phone pings that a new thread has been posted.

H E  I S  A  H E R O

A user with the name _Lyall_ made a post on the thread.

“THAT BOY WAS MY SON!! He was taken from me while we were visiting the local park and I thought that he might have gotten lost and gone home. When I went back to our apartment, the man at the front desk said he hadn’t seen him. I was immediately scared for his life, but then Itzal came through the door of the lobby holding my son. My little boy said that he saved his life! ITZAL IS NOT A MONSTER. MY SON WOULD BE DEAD IF HE HADN’T SAVED HIM.”

A genuine smile tugs onto Izaya’s lips as he slips his phone away. At least someone believes in him. Izaya, now filled with a new determination, starts to skip towards Shinra’s, but then is harshly reminded why he was visiting Shinra in the first place.

Izaya manages to make it to the building’s elevator without crying, falling, or seeing Shizu-chan; which is a huge relief. Izaya is known for being cocky, but even he knows when to stop playing with fire and accept his fate.

Izaya knocks three times before opening Shinra’s door and letting himself in. Celty greets him first, holding her phone up to ask what he needs. He smoothers the small pang of guilt in thought of her ‘missing’ head.

“Oh I was just stopping by to see if the _good doctor_ is in?” Izaya purrs, and while she doesn’t have a head, Izaya can tell she’s irked by his remark.

“He’s in the shower.”

Izaya mentally curses Shinra, but Celty is shoving her phone in his face again.

“Oh, the hood,” Izaya remembers, “It’s bright out today, and I have a bit of a headache.”

He delicately removes it while Celty types.

“Do you have a light sensitivity?”

Izaya sighs, “Yes, I believe that’s what it’s called.”

Izaya glances toward the bathroom door before being assaulted by the bright light of Celty’s phone screen, to which she has turned the brightness on full blast. Izaya yanks his arms to his eyes, audibly gasping at the pain that shoots through his torso and limbs.

“Woah Izaya! What happened to your ribs?” uttered Shinra who was quickly gliding over to him.

“Oh it was nothing really,” Izaya chokes, “Just a few sprains I think.”

Shinra shoos him back into the makeshift operating room, and requests that he removed his shirt. And Izaya does, with a fair amount of difficulty. Shinra looks rather shocked.

“Celty told me about your face, but what happened to your torso?”

Izaya puffs out his cheeks. “Just an error in calculation. I was wondering if you could have a look at it.”

“Obviously you have a few broken ribs. Don’t lie to your doctor, Izaya. What happened?”

Izaya thinks for a second that maybe he should just spill the beans and tell Shinra that _he_ is Itzal: The Mysterious Murder/Hero, but only for a second.

“I’m serious, Shinra,” The tone of Izaya’s voice almost off putting to his childhood friend. “It was just a calculation error.”

Shinra rolls his eyes at Izaya’s stubbornness, and there's an obvious shift in Shinra's demeanor 

“Alright, don’t tell me. It’s not like I really matters to me.”

“Such a great friend you are, Shinra.” He’s smirking despite being just a little hurt with how dismissive his _friend_ is with his well being. “You only wanna seem like a nice person so Celty will like you more. I’m honored to be your pawn.”

Shinra stands a little straighter, obviously annoyed with Izaya’s quips. “Actually, I can’t exactly give a proper treatment if I don’t know what you were doing when you hurt yourself in the first place.”

Izaya pulls a face, but says no more beyond that.

Shinra knew better than to fight with Izaya. He was such a Taurus that it was almost laughable, but it was also so obnoxious that Shinra had to keep from punching him. Instead, he harshly tugs Izaya’s arms, torso, limbs, and neck during his examination. He even goes as far as ‘patting’ Izaya’s lower back when he was leaving Shinra’s apartment. With a prescription in hand, a bandage on his face, and the meds starting to numb away the pain, Izaya actually skips down the street.

He decides to check back up on the Dollars forum, but as the page is loading, he gets a text from Celty.

‘Shinra is really worried about you.’

Izaya scoffs again. He wages that her weak attempt at invoking sympathy doesn’t merit a response, and exits his messenger. Quite a bit of people have commented on Lyall’s last post. There’s a few comments claiming that he’s just lying, but most of them are monologuing about how Itzal’s the new vigilante.

A user named _Elias_ already posted some rather explicit looking fan art of Itzal and everyone’s favorite, Ursus.

Izaya practically chokes on his spit. Jesus, those otaku work fast. He deposits his phone in his pocket, deciding that he should probably eat something. It wasn’t normal for Izaya to eat more than once a day, and he figures he should eat now before the dread in his stomach grows any larger.

He doesn’t want to go out tonight, but he is crudely reminded that he has to when he receives a text from Shiki on his work phone.

‘Stay away from the new hero. It’s Ursus we care about.’

Izaya’s face splits into a grin. He was always the best at avoiding himself in the metaphorical sense.

Simon is standing outside of Russia Sushi, as always, calling out to the passing patrons; which is quite a few given the lunch rush. As usual, Russia Sushi is the lonesome dove of its neighboring businesses. Izaya believes it’s because of Simon’s towering frame and broken Japanese. Maybe if they had a more approachable spokesperson, Russia Sushi would have more business, but despite Dennis and Simon’s pacifist nature, Izaya has a feeling there is an underlying aura of violence and tension just beneath the surface. Though it could be residual energy from the shop owners’ Soviet special ops background.

“Oh, Izaya! Come. Eat. It’s good for you,” Simon calls, one hand cupped around his mouth for volume.

Izaya practically jumps out of his skin. The only person brave enough, aside from Simon he supposes, to yell his name out like that is Shizuo, and he doesn’t think it would be wise to pursue a fight with him now. Through the pills Shinra gave him are numbing his pain, he knows how much worse for wear he really is and quickly shuffles across the street. He is definitely not scared of crossing Shizuo’s path, nope, not at all.

Simon smiles down genuinely at Izaya, and he gets the suspicion his intention is being scrutinized. “Come in, come in. We make you ootoro.”

At the mention of his favorite food, Izaya abandons his desire to pick apart Simon.

“Of course, Simon. Do you have a table open?” Izaya asks condescendingly.

Simon ushers toward his restaurant, and Izaya trots in afterwards. He takes a seat at the bar while Simon prepares his coffee. Izaya tends to stay in line with the same order, and after time, Simon and Dennis just began to remember it.

He pours Izaya’s cup and places the pot down on the bar. Izaya takes a sip and grins at the bitterness that covers his palate.

“Has Izaya heard?” There it is. “There is a new hero in Ikebukuro.”

“I’ve heard of him, yes.”

“What do you think?”

“He’s just as bad as Ursus,” Izaya decides. “If not worse. What about you, Simon?”

“I think he is hero.”

There’s so much conviction in such a simple statement that Izaya’s brain physically stops, and he has to reboot.

“How so?” Izaya says accusingly.

Simon smiles, “Бе́шеной соба́ке семь вёрст не крюк.”

“интересный посло́вица,” Izaya drawls, which leaves Simon room to explain.

“As long as villain is off street, then is good in my book,” Simon added, a sinister tone in his voice.

Izaya takes another sip of his coffee, “If that’s really how you choose to see it, then so be it.”

“Don’t be so quick to scorn him, Izaya. He is closer to you than you think I know.”

Izaya freezes in his motions, and Simon disappears behind the counter to retrieve Izaya’s order. How did he know? How was it so obvious even with everything Izaya had done to hide it? More importantly, how had Simon made the connection to Izaya. His head is reeling again like back at the crime scene. Where had he messed up? Where had he gone wrong?

Simon gently places the ootoro down in between Izaya’s elbows.

“Do not worry, Izaya,” Simon whispers to him, “I will not tell your secret.”

He stands, smiles and winks, and retrieves his fliers to go shout at innocent by passers outside. Izaya stares down at his meal. While Simon can be trusted, the fact that someone knows Izaya’s little secret is making his stomach jump into his throat. He reasons that the unsettling nausea will just rot in his stomach, and since he’s already being charged for the meal, he might as well choke it down. He eats, pays, leaves a rather handsome tip to Simon and Dennis, and slips out, immediately heading back towards Shinjuku. He was already flirting with the devil coming here in the first place, and he knows that if he doesn’t go out tonight, he would be seen as a weak coward in Ursus’ eyes. It was definitely not the impression Izaya wanted to make.

Every time Izaya happened to glimpse at a head of blonde hair, he had a minor heart attack. His anxiety was tripping out his senses and for the third time that day, he started to get lightheaded. For a minute, he curses himself and his weakness, but then there’s a puff of cigarette smoke blown near his face, and he makes a beeline for the nearest crowd.

He really is a coward.

But if it keeps him safe, then so be it. Izaya rapidly shakes his head to clear his thoughts, which really just exacerbates the headache that was already coming back. Izaya decides to drop off his prescription by a local pharmacy upon returning to Shinjuku. Izaya passes the border of the districts and sighs in content. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wills, for the love of God, for the pounding in his head to stop.

He makes it to the pharmacy without a hitch and retrieves his prescription. Izaya swallows one dry once he turns the corner of the building and embarks on the road home. As he gets in the elevator, he smiles contently to himself. It’s a little after two in the afternoon, he’s fed, drugged, and really just wants to take a nap. Izaya signs into Shinichi’s chat log and asks him to drop Izaya a line on anything he hears about Ursus and Helectric and any information about them.

  
Izaya pushes his front door closed with his foot. He notices that Namie isn’t there anymore. He places his pills on his kitchen counter and retires back upstairs. The whispers are starting up again, and he’s not in the mood to deal with them, if he’s being honest. Izaya smirks contently at the new lamp and his glass free floor. He sets the alarm on his phone for nine pm and plugs the three he’s carrying in before collapsing on his bed roughly, pulled into a drug induced sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, you really have no idea how much I appreciate it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I love ending a chapter with Izaya falling asleep!
> 
> This is just a whole lot of character development, but is still important to the fic.

When his alarms sounds, Izaya groans audibly. The happy-go-lucky chime turns into something akin to nails scraping down a chalkboard. The whispering, which is a distant shouting, with the addition of Izaya’s ribs are killing him. He waddles toward his table of phones and sees that Shinichi has sent him over a few links and files, and has questioned his motives in locating his identity. 

 

Izaya doesn’t respond and takes another hot shower, popping a few pills before he steps into the burning water. He’s become rather partial to hot showers. He slips on a different pair of sweats and tightly bandages his torso to serve as a sort of brace for his healing ribs. He redresses his face and forearms as well. Then, Izaya summons his suit and phases to the roof to fish around for trouble.  

 

After about an hour of nothing but his humans sightseeing around the city, Izaya sits on top of a rather large skyscraper and mulls over his thoughts. Izaya supposes that, with the threat of actually  _ dying _ for committing rather routine crimes, that it was only a matter of time for the danger to lessen. Izaya huffs dramatically and slipped off the roof with a resounding hiss from his shadows. There’s more distant yelling of “look!” and “there he is!,” but Izaya ignores them and slips through the town northbound. Izaya figures he should start to seek out Ursus; he didn’t go through all of this for nothing. 

 

He passes over the train tracks and looks over at the police tape wrapped around the destroyed elementary school playground. He feels personally responsible, even though it was technically that idiot’s fault. He was the one that threw the playground. 

 

Izaya’s ribs twinged in pain again.  

 

Izaya glides over Russia Sushi. He sits down for a minute on the roof across from the Sushi shops and smiles incredulously at Simon, shouting at by passers even at this hour of the night. He looks up and connects their eyes, and Izaya feels as though Simon is looking through all of his shadows and directly at him. It makes Izaya cower away. He still doesn’t know exactly how Simon knows that it’s him, or how he figured it out so quickly. Maybe he should ask Simon what he knows about Ursus? If he could see through Izaya so quickly, he might be of use to Izaya. 

 

The wind picks up again and seemingly dances through the buildings, weaving and mingling between the skyscrapers that cut into the silver sprinkle of stars. They seemed almost nonexistent, and without the fundamental understanding that they exist, Izaya would have assumed the sky was blank. Even the moon is clouded over with a strange iridescence of the dark clouds.

 

Simon’s attention is directed elsewhere and for a minute, Izaya feels like he could settle here, content with his scrutinizing gaze. There’s an unfair fragility to the peace he’s feeling, and he knows that a single movement could jeopardize it. He stares to the sky again, ignoring the people below. Izaya allows himself to forget what he is doing and why he’s there and for a single second, his mask slips, and he opens himself bare to Simon, who is still ignoring Izaya’s lack of defenses. 

 

He follows Simon’s eyes to the Celty, slipping silently through the crowds. She passes onto him an amiable wave, and continues on down the road. Once again Izaya feels uncomfortable with his position and sighs bitterly before standing and taking off after Celty. He wonders what she’s doing out so late; Shinra must be worried sick. She’s headed southbound, toward Shinjuku, and Izaya is struck wondering if she’s coming to see him. 

He chases her in close proximity, perturbed when she pulls her bike into an alleyway near his apartment and slips inside the building. Izaya moves fast, fazing through his wall length window and into the freezing unwelcoming aura that seems to permeate from his apartment. He powers up his computer and strips away his suit just as his door flies open. Izaya pushes some keys indignantly, hoping she doesn’t realize that he’s really just typing into a sticky note he pulled up on his desk top. She furiously typed away on her phone before holding it up.

 

“I know it was you, Izaya.”

 

He blinks, irritated with how easily she leaves him befuddled and asks her to elaborate.

 

“Itzal, I know it’s you, Izaya.”

 

Izaya laughs, “What on earth are you talking about?”

 

She rips her phone away again, and rapidly slams her fingers into her undeserving keyboard. 

 

“I sensed it on you.”

 

He cocks his head to the side.

 

“When you were at Shinra’s earlier today. I sensed your powers.”

 

She takes her phone back, taking her time as though she’s ashamed.

 

“I sensed the blood.”

 

His eyes widen slightly and she makes a motion as if she knows she caught him in his lie. Izaya leans back in his chair, laces his fingers together, and ensures his informant mask is tightly in place before speaking with her again; A caution in his voice he reserves for Shiki and other higher-ups in the Yakuza. 

 

The tension in the air doesn’t go unnoticed by Celty, who asks him with equal caution to calm down. They are both balanced, with Izaya’s end of the metaphorical scale starting to tip with the realization that, maybe he isn’t as secretive as he thought. Celty falters in her position over Izaya when she shows fear at his new disposition to the situation, and the scale slams out of whack with Izaya left unable to tell who is in control. He doesn’t like it. 

 

“I asked Shinra about it, and he told me there were some rumors when you were kids, but nothing else.”

 

Izaya remains frozen, annoyance etched into his features from his face to the almost unnoticeable twitch in his fingers as they remain planted firmly on his desk. 

 

“He wouldn’t elaborate.” 

 

“Rightfully so,” Izaya finally adds in, and he notes the way Celty’s shoulders begin to settle. “He doesn’t know, and neither should you.”

 

She flinches at the poorly disguised animosity in his voice. Izaya sighs inwardly and decides that she is simply looking out for Shinra in a similar way Izaya would when the two were little; she is just much more innocuous with her intentions. 

 

“Does he know?” he asks, the malice leaving his voice and posture as he leans forward in a more open manner. He understands her caution; it’s one that she rightfully wields in his direction, similar to the one Izaya shoved toward Shizuo when he learns of his sisters’ association with the beast. Once again, Izaya is just better at hiding his concern.

 

“No.” the answer is decisive, her returned confidence chasing away Izaya’s hostility.

 

“Do you intend to tell him?”

 

“I believe he has a right to know-”

 

“On what grounds,” Izaya interrupts- not bothering to finish reading her message, “does Shinra have any right to know about my personal affairs?”

 

She flinches again, and Izaya realizes that that came out more aggressive that he had intended. He loosens his reins a bit, realizing that there isn’t going to be much of a terms agreement if he continues to scare her. Her fear served no greater purpose than to anger him more, unintentionally of course, but Izaya was so used to her brazened anger and sarcastic disposition that it made him feel uneasy in his skin at her reactions to something as simple as a raised elevation in his voice.  

 

The room is heavy and tense again, and Izaya resists the urge to throw open a window and let the city wind blow away how awkward this is getting to be. 

 

“He’s your friend, Izaya. And even if he can’t pinpoint exactly what’s going on he knows something is up.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. The immaturity of the situation, accompanied by all of the unwelcome complications in the fluidity of his plan are grating on his nerves and making something that should be so simple infinitely more complicated. She’s typing again, as a pout flickers onto his face for no longer than a second.

 

“If you get hurt, Shinra is going to have to find out anyway, so it might be better to just tell him now and get it out of the way.”

 

“Great minds think alike,” Izaya states flatly, not offering any further justification to his proclamation. 

 

It’s just as expected, he thinks. He and Celty are almost the same, regardless of how much she doesn’t want to realize. Perhaps it’s for the best, Izaya resolves. Both carry themselves the same way, as if they are unfit to be where they are and who they’re with. Izaya, much more boastful in his display, and Celty, ashamed of her surroundings. Not in the sense that her placement amongst humankind is unworthy of her presence, Izaya assures himself, but more so the opposite of that -like she is unworthy of them. 

 

Izaya frowns beside himself at her ignorance. 

 

“You should come with me.”

 

“No.”

 

She looks somewhat offended, and Izaya is proud that she’s displaying something other than fear at his offhanded inclination. He rubs at his temples. 

  
  


“I would prefer for Shinra not to know about...this or our present discussion,” He sighs, “However, since you feel so inclined to inform him of the results of your detective work, than go. I can’t exactly stop you.”

 

Izaya concludes that maybe it would be best to keep Celty on her toes, just in case she wants to spill the beans to that blonde asshole. 

 

“At least not in any way Shinra would forgive,” he adds.

 

He gives her a curt nod and stands abruptly. This was ridiculous and he was being childish. It’s exactly what he was trying to avoid, thus Izaya summons his suit to cascade down his form and wrap him again. He makes a note of her visible surprise and Izaya takes off, out of the window and back toward Shinra’s apartment. The chase is on, the silent agreement of a friendly race is validated by the valiant echo of her horse, and he watches as she chases after him. 

 

The metaphorical scale is long forgotten as a smile tugs its way onto his face. She’s gaining on him, and Izaya sinks to her level in order to make it more fair. While he’s never been one to cater to the needs of others, Izaya has a sinking suspicion that she will complain about it when he wins. He slows to her speed, and she turns to look at him. He hopes she can tell he’s grinning, as Izaya decides that he has retracted his previous rejection of her offer. He ignores the monotonous cheering and honking from the cars and people, as his pride isn’t gonna let him lose to Celty. He winks at her, actually  _ wills his shadows _ to wink at her, and takes off at top speed, doing his best to whip around the various trucks and cars, and the occasional bike, before taking off skyward to lose some momentum.  He lands delicately on the road in front of their apartment. Using his powers to sense his isolation, Izaya forces his shadows away. He pulls at the bandages in a blasé manner as he waits for his companion.

 

When Celty rounds the corner, she grinds Shooter to a halt, and deftly steps off. She conveys a certain innocuous innocence left to be desired in the way she leaks excitement in the thrill of the chase. It brings a rare, real smile to Izaya’s face as he ushers her toward the building. She takes her phone out again.

 

“Go on inside and wait for me. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

 

He nods once and slides his mask back into place weakly as he takes the stairs. He waits at the door, scoffing at his own uncharacteristic cooperation. She slips up the stairs silently, and if Izaya hadn’t been told by his whispers she was coming, her sudden intrusion on his thoughts would have startled him. For a minute, he debates simply leaving her alone; He isn’t particularly fond of the idea of Shinra knowing what is quickly becoming Izaya’s most known secret, but he figures that sacrifices must be made to ensure that this is the last hitch in his work.   

 

She pushes the door open and Shinra all but launches off the white couch at her, stopping short for second when his gaze falls upon Izaya, who is smiling in a light-hearted manner at Celty who told him he looked like a “thug” with all his bandages. 

 

“What are you doing here, Izaya?” Shinra remarked, the quizzical tone in his voice hinted slightly with distaste.

 

Izaya stuck his hands up defensively, and began to speak, but Celty held her phone up before he could get a word out. After a silenced minute of Shinra reading, the color drains from his face, and he glances rapidly between the two of them.

 

“Are you.. cheating on me with Izaya?” It’s just barely a whisper, if there at all, and there is so much devastation, that Izaya actually feels guilty for the laughter that bubbles out of his throat beside himself. 

 

Celty is frozen, as if her brain can’t actually process the question Shinra just asked. Izaya’s knees hit the ground without his consent and he slams a bandaged hand into the wall to steady himself from sinking any further as peals of laughter continue to rip out of him. Celty is typing rapidly again as tears start to spill from Izaya’s eyes. He doesn’t stop laughing,  _ can’t _ stop laughing, until Celty smacks him upside the head. Shinra looks just as angry, which is only more amusing to Izaya. 

 

They all knew it was a ridiculous assumption, but with the way the two seemed so close and suddenly so serious in Shinra’s presence, it was the first thing that came into his mind. And Shinra has never been good at thinking before he spoke. When Izaya composes himself enough to stand again, the look on Shinra’s face matches the grin on his. 

 

They used to be such good friends, really the best, but then Izaya’s life took a sinister turn that Shinra couldn’t bare to be a part of anymore. Again, Izaya didn’t blame him; It was a decision that Izaya actually watched Shinra mull over for months in middle school whether or not to cut Izaya from his life. The stabbing was the last straw, Izaya supposed. If he had been in Shinra’s position he’s sure he would have done a similar thing. Their friendship became very cautious and tragically fragile after that. Izaya always felt as though he owned Shinra. After all, his friend had laid his life on the line in exchange for Izaya’s own at such a young age, and although no one had actually died, Izaya and Shinra both knew that he could have.

 

Izaya missed Shinra being there for him. He was the best, and really the only friend Izaya had ever had. Dotachin had come through a few times, but ever since the first day they had met, Shinra had always come in clutch when ever he knew Izaya  _ really _ needed him. He also always made sure to never just run to Izaya’s side at every beck and call. He allowed Izaya to challenge himself, and that alone left him more well rounded as an adult than any type of parental advice from any counselor or nanny he ever had. He forced Izaya to rethink and reevaluate his entire situation, coming up with new ways to solve his problems. 

 

Shinra was honestly the best thing that ever happened to him, and Izaya is always thinking of himself. He frowns a little, realizing that even now, Shinra is changing his disposition on daily life, and he doesn’t even realize it. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Izaya says, again with an uncharacteristically large amount of honesty, and both Shinra and Celty pause to stare at him. 

 

Izaya smiles at Shinra, and again his best friend realizes what Izaya means without any more explanation. 

 

“It’s okay.” Shinra is smiling back at him, looking as if the world’s weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. “I forgive you, really.”

 

Izaya shares in his relief and assumes that maybe he’s so good at seeing through Izaya because the love of his life doesn’t have a head. 

 

Celty is holding up her phone again, obviously confused with the intimate moment the two are having. A smile tugs it’s way to Izaya’s lips as he realizes that while, yes, it will take time, he’s ready to start building bridges with the  _ charming _ people in his life.

 

“So what did you have to tell me?” Shinra asks, the playful tone back in his voice.

 

Celty holds up her phone again.

 

“Izaya killed someone last night.”

 

Shinra flat out spits out his tea. He chokes a little, coughing violently, before weakly sputtering out what could only be considered as “He  _ what _ ?”

 

“Smooth, Celty.” Izaya sighed, “But yes. I killed someone yesterday.”

 

“Why?! On what grounds?! Izaya that’s really illegal! What if someone finds out? Are you in trouble??” Shinra’s rapid fire questionnaire chased away the annoyance that echoed through Izaya at Celty’s blunt declaration.

 

Celty started typing out some long winded response, but Izaya cut her off, pulling his suit from the darkness of their apartment and Shinra’s cup dropped, crashing to the floor with a resounding bang.

 

“... It was you,” Shinra mumbled. 

 

Once again Izaya feels ashamed of the casual way he recounts his sins. Shinra shakes his head, and bends down to retrieve the shards of his cup. His near robotic movements were as slow as his mind, and Izaya could practically see the cogs and gears turning in Shinra’s brain. While he did flatly state that he knew his friend had committed a murder, it seems as though he didn’t  _ understand _ Izaya’s actions. And if he was being honest, neither did Izaya. It seemed like such a good idea when he was there and in the moment, but now that he had dwelled on it, he had no idea how he could have possibly gone through with it. Shinra tosses the shards in the trash and goes to retrieve the broom.

 

“Well I suppose that explains what happened to your ribs earlier.” 

 

It’s just filler words. He’s seen humans use them plenty of times; words said without meaning, something to attempt to shatter the silence before other tensions build.

 

“Why now?”

 

His comment is brusque to say the least, and leaves a foul taste inching its way up the back of Izaya’s throat.

 

“I had a job, and this was the easiest way to accomplish it.” 

 

Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. He elects to stop just shouting into the wind his goals and intentions. It’s  _ out of character _ he decides, and Izaya starts to inspect all of the holes and cracks violently ripping through the walls he had so securely in place. 

 

“I don’t care about that, Izaya,” Shinra declares with a bitter tone. “I want to know why you killed someone, not the reason you’re playing dress up.”

 

Izaya is a little hurt, but figures it’s just as well. 

 

“I have my reasons,” he replies, which honestly only leaves more questions than answers for Shinra, but if anyone knows when Izaya has reached his limit, it’s him.

 

“Just don’t die.” Shinra mutters. “I kinda need someone to constantly keep my life interesting.”

 

It’s not the answer either Izaya and Celty were expecting, however it does slightly ease Izaya’s frayed nerves.

 

“Also, we’re gonna talk about this whole shadow thing tomorrow, so be sure to come over for another cup of tea or something.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes, knowing that that is going to entitle Shinra pining for a blood sample and another physical, but he can deal with it, he supposes. Izaya nods to Celty and Shinra and leaves. His best friend walks him out roughly patting his back and shooting an apologetic smile when Izaya flinches away. Izaya takes the fire escape in the main hallway rather than going down stairs. It’s still early, and Izaya hasn’t accomplished much. Once on the roof, he pushes off toward the sky and balances toward the city center. 

 

It’s actually rather beautiful above everything and everyone. Different vehicles and people mingle below him in a flurry of lights and dark blobs, and for a minute Izaya curses his terrible eyesight. However the perfect orbs of light dancing below him make up for it. There’s an electricity, the promise of completion and a set determination that billows into the air around Izaya as he remains stationary in his position among the stars. He’s high enough above the yellow glow of the buildings that he blends into the darkness of the sky and the clouds that have now covered the moon, leaving him shrouded in black. 

 

It’s very loud. 

 

People are yelling, cars are honking, tires screech and a police siren screams into the air. It abruptly shatters the visual picturesque scene, and Izaya flies through the clouds, up above them, until the moon casts his shadow over the white clouds. 

 

His breath is snatched away from him at the perfection of it all. The stars scatter the sky; flecks of white over a deep navy background. The moon, softly glowing, practically calls to him. It paints gorgeous blue shadows over the greying clouds. The whispers in his head have stopped, leaving such a stunning silence radiating in the sky and all of the space around him. If anything, the quite emphasizes how stunning it all is. The air is heavy with the scent of rain, and Izaya wants to stay here. Cold nips his skin as winds skip over the clouds like a rock bouncing over the surface of a creek. 

 

He thinks of his friends- well, Shinra. Always there for him. Then of Celty, who’s hated him since the two first met, but he can’t be the only one who sensed the change in their dynamic. It feels like hope, to him, and it’s been so long since he can remember being hopeful of a change for the better rather than for his pessimism to be correct. If he’s being honest, he actually hates being right. When he’s right, someone is dead or hurt, and unfortunately it’s normally his fault they’re hurt. Maybe that’s why Shizuo hates him so much.

 

Ah, Shizu-chan.

 

This would be the peace he’s craving; wouldn’t it be?

 

Guilt hits him next. Izaya knows that Shizuo didn’t choose to be the beast that he is, just as well as he knows he doesn’t deserve this peace of mind. 

 

However, that monster isn’t exactly taking any steps to become more human, which is what Izaya tells himself to stomp out that guilt. Anger takes its place, much to his chagrin. He understood why people believed he was selfish, however no one ever took the time to find his side of the story. Rio Kamichika. She was the one that Celty caught, just like he thought the would. Celty honestly thought that Izaya just talked people into suicide, but he had motives, he wanted to help her. He wanted to help her so that she wouldn’t see the world as  _ he did _ . She was depressed far before he found her, but he knew he could help her. So he poked, and jabbed. He wanted to bring her to the brink of death so she would see who cared for her. And it worked! It worked because he had planned it to work; Rio became happier. She never thought about suicide again, and even overcame her depression. So, what did it matter that Izaya’s methods were a little extreme? He helped her. 

 

Just like he helped that “army” of lolita’s and other shut-ins he helped pass their suicidal thoughts and actions. They thanked him. They realized the help he offered them. Even if it took months or years, he would get that last message; that “thank you.” And that meant that yes, they realized. They realized and they were thankful that Izaya had saved them from themselves. 

 

Izaya sighs, his anger clouding in front of his face in a puff of air that coiled into white smoke. It reminded him of a dragon, and he inhales fully again, sighing through his nose. The childish action paralleling his childish thoughts. 

 

In any sense, it didn’t really matter what the people in his life thought, Izaya had told himself. It only really mattered what those people he saved thought. Rio would send her thanks sooner or later. She was a smart girl, and Izaya has a suspicion she already realized what he had done, and she just didn’t know how to convey her thanks. Or maybe she knew he already knew. 

 

A smile tugs his lips. He guesses he was already a hero from his computer screen, but hero doesn’t fit what he did. Those people who would send him essays to explain their thanks would call him a hero, and every time he read that word he would flinch. A hero doesn't cause anywhere near as much pain as he did. 

 

Maybe that explained his distaste for Ursus. He was, in reality, a hero that hurt. He caused so much pain, however people still seemed to absolutely adore him. It was gross and unfair. Just because no one could see what good Izaya was doing, they called him awful and mean.

 

And a  _ monster _ .

 

It wasn't fair, but neither was life. That's what he grew up hearing at least. “Life's not fair.” That mantra had been repeated to him for years and years by everyone who made decisions for him. His parents, his teachers, his friends, everyone had said it to him until he began to believe it and repeated it to others. Humans, as much as he loved them, he was really getting sick of some of their repeated mannerisms. 

 

He pulls his knees to his chest and sighs as he drifts forward, unable to still himself when curled up like this. He looks back to the sky. Izaya really loved the stars. He can deal with the light pollution of the moon. It, if anything, accents the light sprinkle of dead lights. He begins mentally connecting the invisible lines of the constellations, starting with Taurus, his star sign. It is forever fighting with Orion in a similar way that Izaya is always fighting with Shizuo. He laughs again. As if Izaya would be the beast in any fight with Shizu-chan. 

 

Izaya doesn't fully grasp how his ancestors said this specific collection of dots in this sea were connected, however this was one of those quaint things about humans that Izaya loved. Then, Izaya locates the other eleven. He’s always had a passion for the stars. That and religion are the two things that humans have manipulated the interpretation of the most. 

 

He saves finding Leo for last. It’s too close to the big dipper, and by finding that, his eyes automatically traced out Ursa Major. Groaning audibly, all of the stress and tension of his current job pulls back down on him. 

 

The near ear rupturing crack of thunder booms around him, and Izaya actually yelps out in surprise and in pain. His concentration on everything, his powers, his thoughts, his actions slips as well as his defiance of gravity. He plummets, crashing into the black abyss below him before he sees it, and for a split second time moves slower. Izaya’s life flashes before his eyes and he realized in that instant that no, he is not ready to die. He drops out of the clouds and the jagged white bolt of lightning follows him, slamming into his chest. And the pain he feels is indescribable. His entire body convulses as it fights with the voltage, and suddenly there’s a violent ringing in his ears. He smells fire, hot and ashy matching the electric shock tearing through his nerves. Izaya feels the rain hit his face and refuses to admit that he’s crying. But there’s so much pain. He can’t breathe. He can’t hear. He can’t scream. He can only accept his fate with dignity as the concrete of the black alley way gets closer and closer. 

  
Izaya passes out before he meets the pavement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ó﹏ò｡) Whoops! Sorry guys for the cliffhanger, but I promise I’m working on the next chapter. I’m doing so much research, as I have for the previous two chapters, but there’s a lot of medical things I had to look up, and a lot of medical textbooks I had to look through to ensure that everything is accurate. 
> 
> I think I have about eight chapters planned for this arc, and please keep in mind that this is the first of three. Please review! It honestly kicks my butt in gear to write this. Not that I don’t love writing this fic and this pairing, but I just get tired very easily and I am probably one of the laziest people on the planet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo shit this chapter is hella short. Sorry guys.

There’s an awful beeping slipping between the thick fog of Izaya’s mental consciousness. Then there’s a pain akin to what Izaya can only describe as a maggot digging at the center of his eardrum, and he moves rip it out, but finds that he can’t. His body won’t react, and his mouth falls open in a silent scream. His eyes flick open for a second before slamming back shut from the onslaught of horrendous fluorescent light. Then he feels movement. Something pinches the numbness of his arm, and for the vaguest of seconds, Izaya thinks it’s Shinra. There’s so much stress in that grip and Izaya makes his first sound. A groan, he assumes, though he can’t really be sure. Every sound feels like he’s underwater. Then who he thinks is Shinra is pulled away from him, and Izaya is pretty sure he reaches back out for that familiarity. 

 

That pain is incredibly intense and the lack of sounds are only making him feel more violated he feels a needle go into his left arm, but even that was a pain he’s just relating to past memories of shots. Then there’s a numbness, and Izaya recognizes it as a morphine drip added to a newly placed IV. He still can’t hear, but that digging in his ear has stopped in favor of a heaviness, like the maggot has also been affected by the morphine and fallen asleep. 

 

There’s murmuring and Izaya is positive that that is Shinra. His eyelids darken considerably, and he slips his eyes open slowly again, delicately awaiting the tunnel vision and more pain. But it doesn’t come. The room is much dimmer than it was before. Shinra is standing above him while a very frazzled nurse is rubbing what Izaya thinks is burn cream onto his bare chest, the cold contrasting a burn he didn’t recognize. 

 

“Can.... hear me?” Shinra says, and it fades in and out, but Izaya tries his best to nod anyway. 

 

Celty comes in on his right, her helmet reflecting a shell of a man with deep set in bags and a bandage taped to his left ear. She holds up her phone delicately.

 

“How much do you remember?”

 

He can’t speak, to which the nurse repeats to them. Then she says that while the MRI didn’t reflect anything, there may be some more severe damage that they won’t be able to find until Izaya recovers a little. Then Shinra leaves his field of vision to talk to the nurse. He can’t hear them anymore. Celty holds her phone up again, this massage much longer than the last and the languages Izaya speaks are blurring together in his haze. He really is a mess. It takes almost a minute to decipher her message.

 

“You were struck by lightning. I’m not sure why you were that high up, but you better come up with something, cause that crater you made when you hit the ground was massive. You’ve got some first and second degree burns across your chest and down your right leg.”

 

For a minute Izaya wracks his brain trying to remember what he was doing when he could have gotten struck by lightning. Then he remembers the perfection of the white moon and the beauty of the stars. It all comes back and he mentally lists off what he remembers the side effects of getting  _ struck by lightning _ . Neural damage, severe burn marks, permanent loss of hearing, and as Izaya remembers that, his train of thought halts almost immediately. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Apparently, his entire body twitches as realization dawns on him. Shinra is back now standing on his right beside Celty.

 

He glances up at her almost nervously before speaking, “Can you hear me better?”

 

Izaya nods, because yes, he can hear better on his right, and again he starts mentally listing everything that could be associated with hearing loss in the left ear. 

 

“Relax, Izaya. You have a ruptured eardrum, which while is normally not permanent, it will hurt. Your hearing is gonna be a little wonky for a while, but they don’t think it needs surgery. Your hearing should be back to normal in about a month.” Shinra says and Izaya wants to choke the smug bastard for making it seem as though this is nothing.

 

A smile tugged weakly at his face when Celty reprimanded him. Again with the mental similarities,; it made him sick. He was far too alike her for his own liking, which only exemplified how unfair it was that she hated him.

 

Well, at least she used to. 

 

“Your sisters stopped by earlier,” Shinra answers. “The nurses made them leave though since they didn’t know if you were gonna wake up or not.”

 

Izaya’s eyes drag over the dim hospital room to Shinra, standing by a couple of chairs in the corner of the hospital room. He pulls out a needle and a small bottle of a milky liquid that Izaya can’t quite distinguish. 

 

“ Diphenhydramine.”

 

Celty asks him what that is.

 

“Well, knowing Izaya, he would probably get bored locked up in here for the next couple of days, and a bored Izaya is a dangerous one. So, this is the active ingredient in Benadryl. It’s a pretty hard sedative in large amounts, so Izaya will sleep for a couple days, they’ll hold him overnight to ensure that he’s alright, and then he can go home.” His cheery disposition is actually rather amusing to Izaya, considering he’s probably breaking a couple of protocols drugging Izaya in a hospital.

 

He pulls the blanket off of Izaya’s left half and tugs the hospital gown just barely above his hip. Then, he injects the needle.

 

“I penciled it in on your medical chart, so they shouldn’t think about it too hard. I’ll stop by and bring your phones and a change of clothes. Call me... you... charg...” He trails off.

 

And again Izaya’s consciousness begins to slip. The beeping dulls in the background, blocked out by the whispers that are returning, telling him to reject the medication, but as his eyelids slip shut, he couldn’t care less. He’s asleep, numb to the world, and even more numb to Shinra leaving with Celty. He sleeps blissfully through the nurses checking his vitals, and the mini-heart attacks they suffer when he won’t wake up. And when they congregate around Izaya’s medical chart to sigh in relief at Shinra’s handwriting. 

 

He sleeps through two days; sleeps through it all.

  
Izaya even sleeps through Shizuo Heiwajima stopping by his hospital room, taking two steps in, and placing a small stuffed bear on one of the chairs on the other side of the room before leaving with no words and no witnesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End on a... a strong note there... My gay heart can't take it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey. hahaha  
> That one bit of kanji means "beast."  
> I've got some shit down there with like... a crap tone of flowers so I made a guide for you guys.
> 
> Daisies, as well as orchids, are given to people in hospitals as a sort of get well present.  
> Anemones are given to people who need to calm down or take a break.  
> You give Bouvardia to a hard working employee  
> Gladiolus are flowers that represent a token of respect for someone you admire.  
> The rose colors represent desire and lust.

“Are you finally being discharged?,” Shinra questioned into the receiver. 

 

Izaya rubbed uselessly at the bandage taped over his left ear, and clentched his first around the prescription for the burn cream his doctor had given him. Celty made it sound so much worse than it was. There would be some scarring around the spot on his chest that was struck, and of course where his metal rings had conducted nicely with the high voltage; other than that, it was really just like a very bad sunburn. He couldn’t completely hear out of his left, but the doctor said that that would clear up, seeing as it had already cleared up so much after Izaya’s hibernation.  

 

“Yes,” Izaya answered flatly, “Come get me.”

 

“I’m sending Celty now.”

 

“...Thanks.”

 

Shinra gasped mockingly, “Izaya, are you sure you’re feeling alright? I think you just showed a sign of gratitude! You should consider seeing a specialist right n-”

 

Izaya hung up. He prods over to a bench beside the entrance to the hospital and waits for Celty to arrive. He had actually been struck by  _ lightning _ . What are the actual odds? He scolds himself for not realizing the danger he was opening himself up to before it was too late. He was to distracted worrying about frivolous things like others opinions and the fate of a girl he already knew was in safe hands. The sky below him turned black so quickly. Izaya entertains the thought that maybe it was a sign the what he was doing was wrong before quickly shutting it away. There was no such thing as astral beings or destiny or  _ fate _ . 

 

But one thing irritatingly kept pushing itself into his thoughts. Who left the bear? 

 

Izaya was in a short term comma for roughly four days after he’d been struck, and then Shinra put him to sleep for another three. He didn’t remember it being there the first time he woke up. It was there the second time though. He glances down at the offending object in his hands. It was tacky and cheap. Probably bought right after the giver had heard that it had happened. It was a brown stuffed bear in a linen pair of scrubs. A felt stethoscope was sewn around its neck, and it was carrying a heart in it’s hands with the words “Get Better Soon” embroidered onto the front. 

 

When the nurse had first brought it to him, he had originally thought that it had been from Shiki. But upon closer inspection, he realized the thing was far too cliche and childish for him to send. And if Izaya’s own conclusions didn’t exclude Shiki, the stunningly beautiful bouquet of white daisies that were delivered to his hospital room did. The card, which actually did hold some sentiment of worry for Izaya’s well being, also described strict instructions for another meeting to take place between them once Izaya was released. 

 

He rolled his eyes when he read it. Shiki had a rather nasty habit of acting as though he was Izaya’s only client, and in turn, as though he had any actual control over Izaya. But Shiki, like everyone else, was so delightfully human that Izaya had decided to play along. They’d been playing this game for a while now. And as the sun light contrasted the last bit of weather Izaya saw before he was admitted, worry began to crease into his brow. There was a slight fear the Shiki had actually believed Izaya’s ministrations and now believed the he was in control, and for a minute, Izaya entertained a rather nasty plan that he could commit and in turn calmly remind Shiki that Izaya had grown up from their first interaction, and no longer had any desire to follow the path that Shiki had laid out for him. 

 

It wouldn’t be that terrible if that path didn’t lead directly into Shiki’s arms. It was something that both of them knew, but Izaya choose to diligently ignore. Shiki’s rather  _ unorthodox _ attraction started about the time the two had first met. Izaya was seventeen. Shiki was twenty eight, married, and with his second child on the way. He was immediately smitten with Izaya, because yes, he was beautiful, and Izaya’s charisma was something Shiki had never seen before. Accompanied by a quick wit and a skillful defence, Izaya was everything Shiki had wanted. And in the beginning Izaya had felt the same way about Shiki. In his younger days, he was attracted to power and money, something Shiki had radiated brilliantly, and the two had almost hit it off. Almost. 

 

That was until Izaya was introduced to Mrs. Haruya Shiki, his wife, and their two children. Which was when Izaya became so incredibly oblivious to any inkling of affection to Shiki, and tried to shove him into the light of a father figure. Izaya was a lot of things, but a homewrecker was definitely not one of them. If there was anything the Izaya had honored, it was relationships. They were so incredibly human! Relationships brought people together, tore them apart, created and ended lives, and made Izaya giddy just thinking about. He saw them with the utmost respect, and thus decided not to interfere with them, in the romantic sense he supposed. 

 

So they left it at that. Well, Izaya had left it at that. Shiki had continued to pine after Izaya almost desperately throughout his early twenties. Now at the ripe age of twenty six, Izaya remained as isolated as he prefered, and Shiki was ordering him around like a pet. It was for the best, Izaya had thought, but now with so much strain on his mind and his body he started to feel as though it may be best to put Shiki in his place. 

 

Celty slowed to a stop in front of him and tossed a helmet his way. He had ordered for the flowers to be delivered to his apartment as soon as he had woken up, but kept the bear with him to conduct a closer inspection. He tucked the small plush into his pocket and pulled the helmet onto his head, before climbing onto the bike behind her. Celty held up her phone behind her as Izaya got situated.

 

“You got a prescription right? I’ll take you to a pharmacy before I drop you off at home.”

 

He nods his confirmation and thanks to her.

 

“Also, Shinra wanted to know if you still had those pain pills for your ribs, They should be mostly okay now, if not sore, but that medication will help with the pain in your ear.”

 

“I didn’t really get the chance to take much of them really,” Izaya answers truthfully, and Celty’s helmet jerks forward in a sort of nod before she tells Izaya to hold on tighter and revves off toward Shinjuku. 

 

The motorcycle is a lot smoother of a ride than he had thought it would have been. It glides along the streets, humming gently below him. It doesn’t shake with the same raw power as that of other motorcycles he’s ridden. It also doesn’t push with the same gusto that horses have. He pushes his traipsing thoughts in the back of his mind as he drops off his prescription and gets back on the bike with Celty. 

 

More importantly, he needs to get his cards in order and decide his next course of action. The news reports had claimed that a man had been struck by lightning while presumably falling off of a building. After Shiki had discovered it was actually Izaya, he pulled a couple of strings to keep his name out of the media, something Izaya had been most grateful for. That meant that it really just looked like Itzal was a weak coward. Aside from that one night engagement, Izaya hadn’t crossed paths with Ursus again. In fact, no one had. No one had seen or heard from the hero, but that was to be expected seeing as villains were dying now instead of just looking for a fight. 

 

The dollars forum said the man that got struck was trying to commit suicide and just so happened to get struck by lightning. Which Izaya supposed he was okay with; he could easier deviate a lie from that anyway.

 

Celty stops a bit harshly in front of Izaya's apartment, evaporates his helmet, and kills the engine. 

 

“Do you want me to walk you up, or are you okay?”

 

“Oh please,” Izaya chidded, “I’m not a child, Celty.”

 

“Are you sure? Your ringtone would object.”

 

Izaya pulls a face, and pulls his hand to his chest.

 

“That’s so mean!” He smirks. “Especially coming from a hypocrite such as yourself.”

 

“Hypocrite?”

 

He places his hands around the cat ears of her helmet and shakes it delicately. 

 

“Yes! Only a child would find something so consociative with a feline in fashion, especially this early in the year. Convention season doesn’t start till May,” Izaya adds, with a sense of finality that only spurs Celty on.

 

She swings a punch, not one with any gusto, but still a punch, and Izaya easily slips out of the way. He tosses a wave over his shoulder and enters the building. He’s missed home a little more than he really wants to admit, but alas, at least his time in the hospital wasn’t anything more serious. 

 

He rubs the bandage again.  

 

Jeez this thing was gonna be annoying. 

 

At least now that he’s home he can focus more heavily on catching up on all his missed work. It’s been a week- an entire week, of Izaya accomplishing absolutely nothing. He feels like he just came back from an unexpected vacation, one he couldn’t exactly prep for, and thus was left practically drowning in missed calls and a full inbox. 

 

When he opened the heavy oak door to his studio apartment, Izaya wrinkled his nose in disgust. It would seem as though he’s living proof that the more people are scared of you, the more flowers you get as almost every surface was covered in the wildest varieties of bouquets. Apparently Shiki hadn't been as thorough as he had in keeping this incident under the radar. Dozens of arrangements of white and pink bouvardias clouded his desk and coffee table. Gladiolus flowers in a gamut of shades of pinks and purples were tucked along the back walls of his apartment. An uncomfortable amount of roses sat practically everywhere else there wasn’t anything plush or leather; The bright oranges and pastel lilacs leaving Izaya feel rather uneasy at their deeper meaning. There were two that actually stood out in Izaya’s makeshift floral shop, however. One being a few black cymbidium orchid stems, along with minimal green foliage, which sat arranged in a matching ebony ceramic vase on the corner of desk, dangerously close to his computer monitor. And of course, the bold bouquet of daisies Shiki had sent directly to the hospital, now including one damson anemone, sat in his computer chair with a mock luster keen with lies and malevolence. There was also a note from Namie taped to the edge of his desk.

 

_ Orihara-san: _

_ I informed all of your clients you were in the hospital ill, and this was the response. I’m not coming back until you get rid of the weeds. They’re your problem now. _

_ -Namie Yagiri _

 

He couldn't even begin to get any work done until he got rid of this archaic mass of bright petals and mismatched vases. As much as he despised flowers, there was quite a bit of thought that went into each bouquet, so Izaya gathered all of the cards in each vase. Most of them being a simple “Get well soon" or “Best wishes.” However, there were a couple that Izaya took to heart. 

 

One being the bouquet from Shinra and Celty. It was possibly the most burlesque bouquet Izaya had ever seen in his life. Countless pink roses were crammed in a large cylindrical glass vase with an array of bright lilies and bushels of powdery white baby's breath. The note simply read, “Because we know you hate flowers. -Shinra and Celty.”

 

It was fitting, to say the least, so Izaya held onto the card, a small smile gracing his lips.

 

Those orchids had no return address, but it wasn’t exactly a mystery who they came from. 

 

_ Orihara Izaya, _

 

_ It has come to my attention that you have had a physical mishap involving recent weather patterns. I sincerely hope there has been no permanent damage and expect to hear of your return as soon as you are good and ready. Please accept these orchids as a token of my penitence for your recent injuries. They remind me of you. _

_ -Kitshi _

 

Of course Shinichi would have figured it out. It didn’t mean much as Shinichi has been nothing but loyal to Izaya since their first exchange, and as a result, Izaya decides to keep the flowers. He can tolerate the craftsmanship in the bouquet as a metaphor for the simplicity and cautiousness of their fields. Information breakers live life knowing there are always going to be hazards, and as much as Izaya envies Shinichi’s docile methods of collecting, he understands that with such high profile clients demanding one on one time with him, there is no way he could ascertain what he does so quickly if he approached his job with similar methods. So Izaya gets his hands dirtier than most, but that’s what put his name out there. It’s part of what makes him so reliable as an informant, and thus what drives his business. No one else can work as fast and be as thorough as he can, and that’s what Izaya calls “Job Security.” The onyx petals really drew him in. They were soft to the touch and more delicate than they seemed to appear; the last bit of Tsukumoya’s note making bittersweet sense. 

 

He builds a minor collection of the ceramics he enjoys, all of which either white or black, and he dumps their flowers into the left over vases. After tucking the desired pottery away in his kitchen, Izaya retrieves a large black garbage bag and tosses out the others, effectively shattering glass and sprinkling petals across his hard wood floor. He takes special care to destroy Shinra’s bouquet, but can’t help the plaster smile gracing his features as his skin catches weakly on the intact thorns. 

 

Jesus, there are a lot of roses. He fills the bag, and retrieves another.

 

And he fills that one too.

 

And the third...

 

And the fourth...

 

But he only half fills the fifth. 

 

He stacks them all by his door, intending to have Namie take them to the dumpster behind the building tomorrow. His living room still reeks of flora, and he thinks about boiling a scent pot to clear the smell as he assesses the last two bouquets: Shinichi’s and Shiki’s.

 

Izaya tucks the orchids underneath the front, right overhang of his glass desk, still in sight of his chair. And speaking of his computer chair, he moves the daisies to his dining room table. He hates daisies. They are the type of bouquet that an elementary student gives to his first crush. If not for the anemone, He’d have thrown them out. 

 

He retrieves one of his work phones and informs Namie that the biohazard has been removed and that he expects to see her tomorrow morning. She doesn’t respond. 

 

The pollen is starting to make his eyes water and his nose clog, and with his ears already out of commission, Izaya decides he doesn’t need to lose another sense.

 

He fills a pot with water and places it on medium heat on the stove. Izaya then retrieves two lemons and an orange from his fridge and about five stems of rosemary from his crisper. While Izaya doesn’t often cook from home, when he does, he much prefers fresh spices, and thus his fridge is full of chilled seasonings. He thinly slices the lemons and stacks them into the water. Then, he peels the orange and tosses the skin into the pot as well. After stemming the rosemary leaves into the pot, he stirs it once, and inhales deeply. The fresh scent already cutting through the sickly floral scent. Izaya thinks about opening an apothecary shop, but quickly dismisses it with chuckle.

 

He leaves it to boil, and thinks about making Itzal’s comeback tonight. Of course his shadows practically start screaming instantly something along the lines of “That’s a terrible idea; don’t do that,” however Izaya mentally reminds them that even when all of his senses were operational, he still ended up getting severely hurt. The room is silent again before he can point out that the weather incident was really their fault to begin with. He clicks on the TV and presses into the worn leather of his couch, a nostalgic grin cracking into his features. He can’t remember the last time he actually enjoyed his living room. 

 

Nippon TV is the first thing that’s on, of course. Specifically, Gaki no Tsukai. Humans have such interesting ways of wasting their time. Izaya continues to zone out, not really watching the tv as much as just staring at the screen, until a sudden shift in content intervenes his corny comedy show. It’s a breaking news report, which is rare considering what it takes to interrupt a national broadcast. Ursus is on screen, foggy and out of focus, but it’s obviously him. Helectric is there too, which is actually rather surprising. His movements are choppy, throwing punch after punch, but the barrage of bullets from his opponents put a stop to that rather quickly. He’s not hurt of course, all of the ammunition bouncing off of his armor with fiery sparks, however he is substantially slowed down. 

 

Izaya was leaning in, his knees tucked underneath him like a child watching a horror movie. Ursus was in Ikebukoro and almost painfully out numbered. The anchor reporting live from the scene was warning people to stay inside. It seemed as though it was an organized attack on Ursus from a collection of the yellow scarves and...

 

People with the Dollar’s logo printed on black shirts. 

 

As the camera focused on the brawl, Ursus’ opponents were shown to be just that. People in the dollars had taken it upon themselves to emerge as a fighting, nefarious force against Ursus. Izaya immediately had taken to his computer and quickly opened up a private chat with Mikado.

 

_ Nakura: _

> _ What the hell is going on? _

 

_ Tarō Tanaka has signed in. _

 

_ Tarō Tanaka: _

> _ You mean you didn’t have anything to do with this? _

 

_ Nakura:  _

> _ Absolutely not. Whatever is going on, you need to put a stop to it, Ryuugamine. _

 

_ Tarō Tanaka: _

> _ I’m not sure how, or what they’re doing. _

 

Izaya immediately sends Celty a rather frantic text message requesting her presence in their chat room, as well as asking Shinichi if he had any information. 

 

_ Setton has signed in. _

 

_ Setton: _

> _ What’s going on?? _

 

_ Tarō Tanaka: _

> _ A group of people have taken it upon themselves to represent the dollars and go after Ursus with the yellow scarves. _

 

_ Nakura:  _

> _ What can you remember, if anything, from that post you found.  _

 

_ Setton: _

> _ Well...  _
> 
> _ Not much actually.  _
> 
> _ Someone called him a menace, and then someone added in that they should take him down, _
> 
> _ Then a bunch of people started screaming that that was wrong and the thread got deleted. _

 

Izaya clicks his tongue with irritation and confusion. This is another wonderful setback on the road to getting closer to Ursus. Izaya runs his fingers through his hair, still feeling sick to his stomach. He signs out of the chat log, not bothering to say any goodbyes, and ignores the rather demanding text from Celty, who's wondering why he cares so much. He collects another phone and skips through the links Shinichi had sent him. For a minute he debates asking Shinichi to do something about this via cyber attack, however the rapid fire of bullets and screaming ring out from the previously forgotten television and Izaya finds himself right back in front of it. There’s an actual swell of anger. His vision momentarily shifts as his powers boom to life, taking out the power for his building and leaving him plunged in darkness. How  _ dare _ the yakuza hire Izaya to find Ursus’ identity just to turn around and send Akabayashi on an execution mission!

 

Izaya sends a rather heated text message to Shiki, requesting that he stops by tomorrow to discuss today’s events. He responds a bit quicker than he normally does, asking simply, “What happened?” to which Izaya doesn’t answer. 

 

His nerves are on the fritz again and Izaya thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s getting too personally involved with this job. After all that’s what this is; a job. He’s getting paid to ruin this man’s life and then it dawns on him that there’s no real reason for him to be doing this. While his methods aren’t exactly functional, or smart for that matter, Ursus just wants to help people.

 

He wants to save them.

 

And while he’s hurting them in the process, a broken arm is a fair price for saving someone’s life. They’re necessary evils, and just like that, all of the pieces come together. Ursus isn’t a monster in the same way that  _ Shizuo Heiwajima  _ isn’t a monster, and if it traces back to Izaya’s argument about free will, than those parasites that kill, and slaughter, and  _ rape _ are the real monsters. It’s not people like Ursus who has powers to them that they can’t control. And it’s not people like Shizuo who just want to live a normal, peaceful life, but can’t due to unforeseen circumstances. It’s people that hurt. And people that kill. 

 

People like...

 

Himself.

 

Yeah... He was a monster. 

 

But on the same grounds that he was, so was Shiki, and Masaomi, and Mikado. Well, Masaomi and Mikado had had their justice served, however Shiki, with all of the people he’d hurt and all of the people he killed, (with Izaya’s assistance unfortunately) he was getting off scot-free. And frankly it wasn’t fair. 

 

So in the darkness of his apartment, Izaya revisits the idea, the one that he dismissed almost instantly, and now is trying to rebirth. It’s a quiet thought, that over years of the emotional abuse delivered to him and the physical abuse delivered onto other people, turned into a quiet word. And as this realization hit Izaya, he realizes that this word had been building and building, mutating and merging with the other thoughts in his head until it slammed into existence with the violent manner of a rampaging bull through a china shop. 

 

_ Revenge. _

 

When it hits him, his eyes shoot open. Izaya Orihara wanted revenge. His plan collects in shards and falls into place with a methodical algorithm that only he understands. And his hands start to shake as the chess pieces on his board slip at his will. He isn’t touching them, which is part of the reason he’s taken by surprise. He floats over to his chessboard and watches as the once white pieces are now gradients in black where they were picked up and replaced in a fragmented shape with Shiki being close to Izaya’s piece, and Izaya’s piece being next to a new black axe that he has dubbed as Itzal. He doesn’t know how it got there, or how it’s standing on the toothpick thin rod of the handle. He opens his hand and watches as the axe flies off the board and into his hand with a sharp stab to his palm. Telekinesis? That’s unexpected. 

 

The piece, the axe, is cold to the touch. The edge feels wispy like a fog on a cold autumn morning; however, there’s something dark and solid in the center of the chipped blade axe. It’s fitting, he thinks, and Izaya places the piece back on the board closer to Ursus than he allows Izaya’s piece to be, but there’s a near invisible red string tied around both Izaya’s and Itzal’s pieces. Shinra and Celty both sit on top of that string while Simon is facing it, left out of action for the moment, and Izaya hopes he can continue his position as an observer rather than a piece. Shizuo’s piece, has been replaced from a single wood tile with “獣” carved into it, to a black knight piece from an Indian chess set. He’s pulled from his position facing Izaya, to next to Simon’s white checker, facing away from everything going on. 

 

It’s better to leave him uninvolved.

 

It’s better to ignore him entirely in light of Izaya’s new... disposition on his species. It’s just was well; This is exactly what Shizu-chan wanted, wasn’t it? Ah, Izaya supposes he can’t exactly call him Shizu-chan anymore, now that he’s not a beast and is deserving of Izaya’s love. The thought of Shizu-chan being human is one that Izaya has toyed with at best, never accepting and certainly never coming to terms with. He says Shizuo out loud, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel wrong, but as a human, Izaya loved him in the same sense that he loved all of humanity. _He loved Shizuo Heiwajima._ He had to. Or else he wouldn’t be loving humanity. And what kind of god wouldn’t love everything under him, but Izaya supposes, with a sad smile, that he isn’t exactly a god either. He’s a monster, but he wasn’t born that way; he was turned into one. So he figures he should spend his time now, rather than toying with humans, he should be doing exactly what he wanted Shizuo to do- Apologize for his existence. And what better way to do that than with destroying Shiki and his little factotums? 

  
Once again Izaya is reminded that he’s a bit more dejected at Shiki’s actions than he wants to be, which is fine, he assures himself. And Izaya clicks off his stove in his dark apartment, and shuts the bedroom door before the building’s power flickers back to life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha This ending is kinda shitty but lol what ever


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person.

It’s been a little over a week since Izaya has been discharged, and the air is more tainted with a menacing ambiance that’s making Izaya’s one safe haven feel more like an execution ring. But Izaya decides that it’s just as well. After all, that’s what he’s doing. His meeting with Shiki informed him, through some digging and a good hard look at Shiki, that he had no idea why Akabayashi went after Ursus, however Shinichi told him it was an error in crosshairs on their part. Izaya smiles wickedly at the thought of Shiki’s future while he deposits a new file, a sort of side project for Izaya to entertain himself with while he waits for Ursus.

 

Itzal has been out a few times, and the sickening oil on his skin is becoming so familiar that he can’t shake it, and frankly doesn’t want to. There’s a lot of changes going on in his life that he feels he needs to have added control of at least understanding the shattering of his moral code.

 

No one has noticed that anything is wrong.

 

Which was fine by Izaya, he supposed, but he understood that he had no one to blame but himself. If anything it should be a complement. While his ethics are positively at war in every mental form (which was even beginning to affect his powers and work ethic), he seems absolutely fine in the physical world. Guess it takes a monster to blindly destroy his morals and personal mental health without tipping off anyone to what’s really going on. He feels as though if Shinra happened to see him, he would ask if he was okay; which is why Izaya wasn’t answering his friend’s texts.

 

It wasn’t exactly that Shinra was worried about Izaya. It was more so asking if Izaya wanted to have lunch with the two, but with his hearing being as damaged as it is, Izaya didn’t want to chance a run in with Shizuo. While he had accepted Shizuo and loved him the same as anyone else, Izaya had a feeling Shizuo wouldn’t reciprocate. But who knows? Shizuo had never been one for playing by Izaya’s rules.

 

Izaya immediately halts that train of thought, disgust dragging his mouth into a grimace. He’s trying. He really is trying to get better at his perception of Shizuo, however old habits die hard, and he catches himself mentally referring to him as “monster.” But he is trying! He’s really trying.

 

His phone goes off, as Shinra decides that Izaya is just going to continue ignoring his texts. He answers it, despite his shadows’ warnings. At first he tugs the phone to his left ear just out of reflex, which is good cause his shattered eardrum and bandage block out the high shrill of Shinra’s complaining. Izaya waits until the muffled squeaking stops before switching his hands.

 

“Hello to you too, Shinra.”

 

“Shizuoisonhiswaytoyourhouserightnow!” Shinra blurts in a jumbled mess, leaving Izaya to make sense of his babbling.

 

“One more time?”

 

“Shizuo is on his way over. He’ll be at your house in twenty minutes!”

 

Izaya rationalizes that that’s probably okay. It can’t be as god awfully horrible as Shinra is making it out to be. But then Izaya is reminded of his inner turmoil involving Shizuo and regret and concern begin to coil in his chest.

 

Shinra takes another breath, “I don’t know exactly why, but he came over a little earlier and asked where you had been. I didn’t tell him you were in the hospital though, so I don’t think he knows.”

 

Izaya stayed silent.

 

“Then he went off on some huge tangent about how you were ‘planning something big’ and that ‘this was gonna be a huge mess’ and that he ‘needed to put a stop to it.’” Izaya could practically hear Shinra’s air quotations as he spoke.

 

“Then he left, so I can only assume he’s on his way to your apartment.”

 

Izaya pursed his lips, and for the first time in a long time, the anxiety churning in his stomach was making him wanna throw up.

 

“Thanks for warning me,” His voice came out surprisingly steady.

 

Shinra sighed into the receiver, “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“Me? Stupid? Shinra, when have I ever made a stupid decision?” The snark in Izaya’s voice feels wrong.

 

“Do you want the novel or the annotated version?”

 

“That’s rude.”

 

“Both are actually pretty long in their own right.”

 

“I’m offended.”

 

“There’s a movie trilogy about your high school years.”

 

“Okay; that’s enough.”

 

Izaya could practically feel Shinra’s smirk through the receiver, and indignantly simmered in his rage at Shinra’s remarks.

 

“I’m not stupid,” Izaya practically growled, thinking sadly that he was more like a monster than he thought, “I’m just-”

 

“A wreck.” Shinra cuts in. “You’re a huge mess mentally. I can hear it in your voice.”

 

Izaya doesn’t respond.

 

“I know you’re not gonna tell me why, but that’s really just making you a bigger mess. You shouldn’t hold in your emotions like that Izaya; it’s not healthy.”

 

Izaya snorts into the receiver and glides over his desk, to take a seat in his computer chair. He glances out of the window and smiles. He’s been faking those more and more. Izaya pushes himself to his feet, and the chair collides with his desk weakly. He’s never realized just how high up he lived. He wasn’t in the penthouse, finding that that was too predictable, but rather just a few floors underneath it.

 

He presses his hand to the glass and pushes, part of him hoping that the glass would give and fall. For a moment, Izaya finds himself stuck in a situation he hasn’t been in in a while- the contemplation of suicide. It’s one of those things that never goes away. He’s tangled with it before, torn between appearing weak and just stopping the voices and pain once and for all. But then he thinks of Shizuo, like he always did, and what his suicide would mean to the other. Izaya is a lot of unsavory things, he knows that. And for a while, he was sure he’d come to terms with it. However there was one thought that always made him put down the pills, or turn the safety back on, or toss the knife into the opposite wall. If Izaya was just going to kill himself anyway, he might as well let Shizuo have his victory. Luckily, their paths never crossed when Izaya had dug himself into this hole, but knowing that Shizuo was on his way to Izaya’s house, he felt his thoughts, normally so concise, left scattered and foggy. He didn’t know what Shizuo’s intentions were, but if he was looking for a fight, he’d have to look elsewhere.

 

The screaming in his head got louder and for a split second, Izaya felt a burst of energy when he came to that realization. He opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them, and stared at his living room, which was incidentally… now void of furniture? Confusion over takes his abrasive mindset, and all of his decor comes crashing to the ground. He’s tucking in the corner of his ceiling, heart hammering in his chest, and feeling the shadows calming his anxiety if only a little.

 

His coffee table didn’t make it.

 

Neither did his desk.

 

Damn glass surfaces.

 

Izaya tiptoes off the wall, and inspects the mess. He's been breaking quite a bit of glass recently, and he allows himself to berate his newfound clumsiness. The elevator in the hall dings and it doesn't take a genius to realize that Shizuo Heiwajima is the one stomping down the hall.  When the brute almost rips Izaya door off, the panic sets in Izaya’s skin as the broken glass and twisted metal frames slam to the roof again. Izaya's hand jumps to his face, gingerly pressing the new cut from the glass shooting off the floor.

 

And there's Shizuo, seething in anger in Izaya's entryway. It's good, Izaya assumes, because as he pulls his hand away from his cheek, rubbing the blood across his palm with his fingers, he doesn't want to die anymore.

 

Shizuo is yelling. Izaya is having a hard time focusing. The darkness is ebbing into his consciousness, his burst ear is starting to hurt, and he thinks he just saw a few pieces of glass drip from the ceiling like snow. And his head hurts. It's practically pulsating with the same brazen anger and strength that Shizuo practically bleeds. So when he throws Izaya into the window behind him, he’s almost blinded. Luckily, he peeks his eyes open just in time to catch the blanket of debris mid fall, and banish it silently back up.

 

“What the fuck happened to your head?” Shizuo asks, but that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like a demand than a question.

 

Izaya swallows, trying to rationalize that Shizuo is a human and therefore Izaya has to love him, but that’s much harder to put into words when he has a chunk of Izaya’s front door in the other’s hand is is about to blow his own good ear out of commission. His brain is practically vibrating in his skull, deeply searching every mental file for some kind of coherent response that won’t get lost once outsourced to his mouth, but every lead is coming up short. At the base of the seemingly empty bone, Izaya can be sure that he feels the broken glass he’s trying so hard to keep above ground violently ramming into the exposed skin under his hair.

 

Maybe he just hit the window too hard.

 

Either way...

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

It’s a childish response, and if Izaya wasn’t focusing so hard, he’d roll his eyes at the immaturity.

 

“Nice try, pest. You’ve kept your head under the surface for too long. I know you’re planning something, and there’s no way I’m gonna let it happen!” He’s screaming when he finishes.

 

No, Shizuo Heiwajima isn’t a monster. He’s just a fucking idiot.

 

“But I already knew that,” Izaya says.

 

“Already knew what?”

 

A single bead of sweat slides down Izaya’s temple and his face contorts is gentle embarrassment.

 

“Ah, nothing.” Izaya slips off the window. “To what do I owe the visit, Shizuo.”

 

He opens his mouth, but shuts it almost as quickly. Izaya smiles, thinking Shizuo looks a bit like a fish out of water.

 

Shizuo physically shakes his head, probably clearing his thoughts, “What are you up to?”

 

“Nothing, at least not now.” Which is kind of a lie. Izaya is up to something, but it’s nothing that involves him.

 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

 

Izaya is starting to black out and he sways a little bit, trying his best to contain himself, he presses a hand to the glass again. There’s a chill carving it’s way into his bones and when Shizuo steps closer to him, Izaya knows he sees the shiver that runs up his spine.

 

Shizuo cocks his head to one side and eyes Izaya wearily, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Izaya pulls on a lazy smile. “Starting to care now, are you Shizuo?”

 

He gets that same confused fish face again, and Izaya can’t help but laugh.

 

“You wish anyone would give a shit about you. Why the fuck should it be me?”

 

At that, Izaya straightens up a bit.

 

“Who the hell do you think you are to accuse me of needing anyone...” It wasn’t a question at all, and Shizuo knew that.

 

It was a blatant display that while Izaya may seem weaker than normal, Shizuo was far from having the upper hand. Izaya’s eyes are hard, hazey garnets glaring with an almost frightening rage. It’s something that Shizuo doesn’t like, and the harsh cruelty is making him uncomfortable. On top of that, Izaya is sporting something akin to a poker face, blank and unnerving.

 

Another scale.

 

It’s odd, this one.

 

Shizuo is looking up at Izaya even though he knows he has much more weight on his end. There’s only what could best be described as a wall dividing both of them leaving Shizuo is clear view over it, and Izaya barely peeking just barely above it. He believes that it’s because, as much as he can stone his face, the eyes are the windows to the soul.

 

Izaya’s head is starting to reeling again and he glances up, noticing that the biggest shards of glass are now pointed toward Shizuo. It’s alarming, and Izaya knows that if his consciousness happens to slip, Shizuo will get stabbed. It may not kill him; but he will definitely kill Izaya. It wouldn’t exactly be his fault, either! It’s not like he’s got the best grip on this, but that’s only adding to the stress and pain. He feels like if he keeps this up any longer, his mind will give in to his near unconsciousness.

 

He follows the curve of Shizuo’s jaw line to the snarl in his mouth and grimaces at his own internal conflicts. Then he meets honey brown eyes, but then he sees those eyes drag up toward the ceiling painted in dented metal and broken glass, and Izaya panics. His brain throws his hands out to grab Shizuo’s face, and Izaya does exactly what Shinra told him not to.

 

He does something incredibly stupid.

 

He drags Shizuo's face to his and presses their lips together gently. Izaya can feel the explosion of anger as his body is thrown to the other side of the living room, crashing hard, and feeling every brick collide with his still aching ribs, no doubt destroying all of the progress his bones had made to heal. The wind is forced out of his chest, and Izaya is heaving sorely. His lungs are on absolute fire as his throat opens and closes, trying to force air in. He peels his eyes open and sees Shizuo, confusion on his face for a moment before a heavy amount of guilt replaces it. Then more guilt as Shizuo glances around at the glass and empty metal casings for said glass, so it looks like Izaya’s plan worked. Now there’s even more guilt when Shizuo’s eyes fall onto Izaya. Then there’s a flash of anger, which again recedes to guilt. The next scowl is so obviously forced Izaya almost takes pity on him... almost.

 

“Stay... away from me...” Shizuo growls, or at least that’s what Izaya thinks he says.

  
Then the door slams the best is can with it’s missing chunks, and Izaya blearily pulls himself up, despite his protesting muscles, and the shadows lift him gingerly off of the ground, carrying him toward his room. It’s times like this, when the minimal shroud of sentience graces his darkness, that he’s thankful. He lets them carefully slide him on top of his bed, and with his lips still a bit sensitive and his body absolutely screaming, Izaya gives in despite himself and passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super self conscious about my dialogue. 
> 
> The other user Izaya discusses in this chapter is the name of a super nice reviewer over on ff.net. I was wondering if my reviews here would mind if I dropped in their username in a similar way??

Izaya is still in an incredible amount of pain when he finally wakes up again. His room is dark, thankfully, but that does so little to counteract everything else that is violently assaulting his senses. His head is aching, he’s painfully cold, and... he can hear out of both ears. It’s great! Now his head won’t feel off kilter when he talks or when he listens to music, which has actually been the hardest part about having a shattered eardrum. 

 

Izaya draws up a bath, lukewarm, and delicately lowers himself into it. He allows his thoughts to wander, which in all honesty, has not ended well these last few weeks, however, it’s not like he’s got much else to do. 

 

He’s really been slacking on this job. Izaya is known for his speed and diligence and so far, all he’s got is broken ribs, murder, and motherfucking  _ struck by lightning _ . The actual odds of which are really irking him. He supposes it was bound to happen and taps the titanium rings on the rim of the tub. They conducted a rather violent amount of the power. His chest has an angry pink scar that reminds him more of a tree than a lightning strike. He traces the trunk as he sees it, and threads his fingers through the leaves. The scars down his arms are much smaller, but there’s a bolted slash that around the base of his pointer fingers and up the knuckles- they’re a much darker red that the one on his chest. Wearing his rings hurts every once in awhile. However, he preferred the sting over the stares from Shiki, who seemed to be watching him like a hawk. 

 

Honestly it made him a bit uneasy, and he thought back to the chess board. He should move Shiki’s piece closer to his with his new found interest. And on top of that, Itzal has been practically forgotten by the public eye, so he should be moved closer to the edge. Regarding the dull ache in his torso and the sharp sting in his veins, Izaya decides that regardless of his personal pain, he would need to go back out and rebirth Itzal as more than a one time thing.

 

And speaking of one time things, Izaya pulls his fingers to his lips. Shizuo surely didn’t think anything of the chaste kiss, did he? Izaya realizes that maybe a kiss wasn’t exactly the best course of action, but in the heat of the moment, he had to do something that would guarantee Shizuo would react negatively. He could have also punched him in the face, or shot below the belt, or slapped him across the face… oh well. 

 

It wasn’t exactly  _ awful _ , but the kiss was too short and ended too horribly for Izaya to come to a proper conclusion. Izaya runs his fingers through his hair. Maybe he’s the one thinking too hard about this. For all he knows, Shizuo could have already forgotten about it, and Izaya is the one dwelling like a blushing virgin. It was far from his first kiss. Regrettably, that had been given to Shinra, who Izaya really only kissed because Shinra was complaining about never being kissed. To his understanding, Shinra didn’t know it was his first. However, he did know it was his first when they exchanged virginities in eighth grade. 

 

Izaya can’t help the blush that climbs his cheeks and burns his ears. For the love of god, why did he decide that Shinra was the best candidate for  _ that _ . It was best for it to be somebody that he trusted at least. If not Shinra, it would have been Shiki. Neither outcome was particularly desireable, however Shinra was much more compatible. It hadn’t meant much to Shinra- probably a bit more to Izaya. Both had the silent understanding that they were  _ not _ in love, and that even though they were doing this, they were not going to let it change their relationship status. It’s just something friends did. Shinra was bi-curious. Izaya was uncaring. The passing of virginity was something that Izaya found tedious, so it was completely understandable that neither put too much thought into it. However Izaya, in times like this, was reminded of the sharing. 

 

Shinra really did know him better than anyone.

 

Anyways, let’s change that topic. Namie was probably unconcerned with the broken door, and there were two possibilities with her actions: 1) She turned around and went home. Or 2) she just sat down and started to work. Either way, Izaya wouldn’t mind. Why hasn’t he fired her yet? It’s even a mystery to him, however when he continued to think about it, his office would be almost unbearably empty without her. 

 

He’s so much more alone than he had originally thought. Honestly before this whole job started he didn’t have anybody. At least, he didn’t have anybody that he wanted to have in his life. Now he has Shinra back and a newly tentative relationship with Celty. He should try to reconnect to Kadota, and maybe once he’s got the Raira squad back together, he’ll aim for...

 

Shizuo would never really be his friend, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be civil at least right? Deep down, Izaya knows that it’s really his fault. Shizuo always has a habit of pointing out to Izaya just how awful he really is, but in an accurate way. There’s a way he words his declarations and assumptions that make them hit just as bad as his physical attacks. At least when he lands them.

 

The amount of nuances in Izaya’s life are almost laughable. Most of which are direct reflections of his mental status and personal relationships. He’s in pain, with an impossibly delicate scar covering his entire body. It reflects his absolutely horrid mental health. The idea of a scar is ugly. It’s marred flesh caused by a mistake, a permanent reminder of his regrets. Izaya was a mistake; which bastard children tend to be. He puts on such an ugly front, but he knows just as well as Shinra does that Izaya’s facade is cracking. Izaya is getting tired. He’s still convinced that if he lets someone in in a similar fashion as Shinra and Celty, he would break. Another chill cuts through his body and Izaya regrets not drawing a warmer bath. His mind drifts to Shizuo again. 

 

It’s moments like this, when he’s surrounded in stifling silence, when he must come to terms with just how isolated he really is. Shizuo has everything Izaya wants. Izaya is weak and alone. Shizuo is strong and has friends and family that love him. Izaya doesn’t even get so much as a passing glance from his siblings or parents, but that’s to be expected when you’re genetically defective in such a way that you can’t possibly pretend to be normal. It’s probably why Izaya has a god complex. Gods are always either alone, bitter, or mean, and unfortunately, Izaya is all three. It’s okay, though– at least that’s what he tells himself. Because he knows that monsters are also all three. He pops his neck almost violently and smiles at the cracks that echo off of the walls. Shinra always used to bitch at him for it, but really it just egged him on. 

 

Izaya turns on the shower head to actually clean himself. He never understood those people who just take a bath in order to get clean. If he took a bath, it was to soak and relinquish in his own thoughts, not stew in a tub of his own filth. He scrubs down and cautiously slips out of his tub and onto the scale on the far side of the wall. One... thirty-five? He was one twenty eight about a month ago. He hasn’t been eating any differently, and to be honest, he’s actually been eating less. Maybe with the new use of his powers and strenuous activities, he’s finally gaining some muscle mass.

 

Or maybe he’s just getting fat.

 

And now he’s getting stressed out.

 

He taps his belly, a scowl pulling at his face when a ripple crosses his abdomen. Jeez, he needed to do some crunches. 

 

Izaya pulls on the first thing he finds in his dresser and pads downstairs. Namie is sitting on a couch that broke in the middle, typing away at a tilted angle with her laptop in her lap.  All of the glass is exactly as he left it, and his front door has been left ajar; unable to close with the chunk that holds the door knob laying on the floor beside it. He tugs his hands to his face and sighs audibly. Namie cocks her head to the side (which really brings it to a normal angle).

 

“Good morning, sleeping train wreck. Wanna tell me what the  _ hell _ happened to your living room?”

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

He really isn’t feeling this whole sentience thing at the moment. However, Namie doesn’t pry anymore, which he is thankful for.

 

Until she does, but in an unexpected way. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Izaya’s sure that if one more person asks him that question, or any variation of it, he’s gonna have a fucking breakdown. 

 

“No.”

 

She stops typing.

 

“Going to elaborate?”

 

“No.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Positive.”

 

Namie starts typing again. “So you are listening to me then?”

 

Izaya tip-toed around the puddles of glass littering his living room floor. “Of course.”

 

“Are you gonna give me more than a one word answer?” Namie slammed her laptop, balling her hands into fists.

 

“Probably.” He pauses, narrowly making it to his kitchen without crashing to the floor. “Maybe not.”

 

Izaya’s smirking at Namie’s grumbling. Now in the kitchen, Izaya realizes he never had any goal in mind for getting here, so he awkwardly shuffles around before decided to just make a cup of coffee. He pours it black and takes a sip, striding back out into the living room as Namie’s packing up her files.

 

“Isn’t it a bit late for a coffee?”

 

“Not sure.”

 

She crumples the paper in her hand into a ball and throws it at Izaya, who is smiling proudly into his coffee cup. 

 

“What do you mean you’re ‘not sure’?”

 

Izaya glances around at the disaster. It looks like an earthquake hit specifically his living room.

 

“Not sure.” He pulls his eyes toward his desk mournfully. The hard drive for his computer would be fine, but the monitor is shot. He’s scared to open his laptop.

 

“It’s almost ten.”

 

Izaya’s eyes widen slightly.

 

Namie throws her bag over her shoulder and stomps her heels over the glass. “You slept all day. Shiki stopped by. He’s ordered you a new desk and computer. He said to call him.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes.

 

“Tell me this,” Namie says in a matter-of-factly sort of way that makes Izaya give her his full attention, “Are you two sleeping together?”

 

Izaya chokes. “Of course not!”

 

“Are you sure? Cause I'm getting a  sort of  _ sugar daddy _ feel from him.”

 

“W-why would you come up with such a stupid idea?! He's a decade older than me!” The blush spreading across Izaya's face and ears is only adding fuel to Namie's fire. “And for your information, if I was going to acquire a sugar daddy,” he whines in disgust, “I could do  _ much _ better than Mr. Haruya.”

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Namie sighs, as if she's bored with his answer. 

 

She's gone before Izaya has a chance to retort. Izaya wishes that if Shiki was going to frivolously spend money on him, he could have at least replaced the door first. Lucky for him, Shinra and Celty come down the hallway, carrying a new, if not cheap, front door.

 

“Shizuo stopped by saying he- Woah! When Shizuo said he messed up your apartment, I didn't think he meant this badly!” Shinra yells, and even without a face, Celty looks a little surprised.

 

“Yeah, thanks for the door,” Izaya sighs, using his telekinesis to lift the door from Shinra's grasp.

 

To which he audibly gasps and Celty freezes to watch Izaya place it in the entryway. Celty's phone appears in her hand a fraction of a second later.

 

“How long have you been able to do THAT??”

 

“Couple of days,” Izaya says flatly as he concentrates on removing the screws from the old door and replacing it with the new one. He cocks his head over his shoulder, “Look! No hands!”

 

Shinra rolls his eyes, and Celty’s shoulders shake in a sort of giggle. 

 

The new door is a light tan wood. Well, not exactly wood; it’s just stained like that. Either way, Izaya isn’t very fond of it and decides that he’ll replace it in the morning. But for privacy’s sake, it will do.

 

“Have you heard about Ursus?” Shinra asks, in an unnervingly serious tone. 

 

The new door is on, and Izaya can feel a headache coming on, “I’ve been asleep all day, so no. What’s up?”

 

Celty’s phone is up before Shinra can respond, “He’s been going on a rampage all day! He’s even been taking out criminals for petty things like loitering.”

 

“I think he’s looking for a fight. Maybe he got fired from his day job or something. Either way he’s probably looking for a way to blow off some steam.” 

 

“Ah yes, I’m sure Ursus was fired from the Daily Planet after telling Editor Taylor that the new reporter, Clark Kent was Superman,” Izaya purrs, floating over the glass into the kitchen and taking two of the pain pills Shinra had given him long ago.

 

Shinra’s slack-jawed for a second. “Holy smokes. You are a huge nerd.”

 

Izaya shoots him a look of disdain. “I was in the hospital and bedridden at home for a week and a half. I figured the best I could do was at least learn more about the  _ superhero culture _ .”

 

Celty makes the same chuckling movement as she did before and holds up her phone again.

 

“Did you just call it a culture?”

 

Izaya starts piling up the glass telepathically, “Maybe a sub-section of a type of culture. I think the word is ‘fandom.’ But when you think about it, even that is broken into the different subsections.”

 

“Why do you know so much about this?!” Shinra asks.

 

“I’m an informant. It’s what I do.”  

 

Celty is laughing again and moves to stretch her black shadows around the dented metal frame of Izaya’s desk. She lifts it roughly, obviously stricken by the weight, and drags it toward Izaya’s hefty pile of glass. He nods a thanks in her direction.

 

“So did your sugar daddy call someone to retrieve the debris yet?” Shinra laughs, and Izaya floors him in an instant. 

 

Celty is laughing so hard she sinks to her knees.

 

“He is  _ not _ my sugar daddy, and if you say that word one more time in my presence, I will slam you into the pavement faster than you can blink.”

 

And the threat is real, and Izaya hopes Shinra takes the hint. Apparently he does.

 

“I heard a rumor that there’s gonna be a huge attack against Ursus tonight.”

 

“Oh yeah, just like last time?” Izaya scoffs, “Please, as if I would care about something like that.”

 

Celty responds next, “No this one is a hell of a lot of people. I think it’s somewhere in the hundreds.”

 

Shinra nods, “Celty is right. I’m not exactly sure what your damage with him is, but you and I both know that you have some. It’s part of your job to interact with him, and while yes, he is super strong, this might be too much.”

 

“Even for him,” Celty adds. “He might be strong, but he’s really not very good at… strategy.”

 

“So what?” Izaya hisses, “He’s the hero! He shouldn’t need me to come to his rescue.”

 

“You’re right,” Shinra coos. “You’re absolutely right. He doesn’t need you to rescue him, but If I was in his position, having someone there who’s used to taking on that many people on a regular basis and someone that has been tipped off early to the surprise attack would actually be great.”

 

Izaya brings his head toward the window and stares out into the skyline.

 

“It’s getting late,” Izaya says dismissively, to break the silence.

 

“Ah, once again you’re right. Celty needs her beauty rest. Namie called us and asked if we could pick that up for you.”

 

“Thanks.” Now Izaya looks bored, but in all honesty, his anxiety is digging away at his current thoughts.

 

Celty walks out first, and Shinra wraps an arm around Izaya, much to his plight. 

 

“You want a Xanax prescription? You make this same face every time your anxiety swells.”

 

Izaya coughs a little, “Um.. sure, actually.”

 

He’s not going to take them, but he knows that Shinra will just push the issue if he doesn’t take the offer. 

 

“Alright!” He releases Izaya, “Stop by tomorrow and I’ll have it for you.”

 

Then he leaves, waving over his shoulder after Celty. 

 

Izaya waits till the elevator dings with their exit before bolting to his computer and entering the chat with Shinichi. He sends a quick message asking about Ursus and gets the same response Celty gave him when he asked. Then he goes to the dollar’s website and starts to sniff around for anything and everything. Unfortunately, some of them are claiming it was set up by Itzal, which could be bad. There’s a user who continues to appear on each of the forums,  _ Blackfallstar9 _ .

 

Izaya uses Chrome to shoot them a message.

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ Hello. _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ Hi. Do I know you? _

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ No, but I was just jumping around the forum and I noticed your username keeps coming up. I’m a huge fan and I was wondering if you knew what all the stuff going around was about? _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ Oh. Um... yeah. There were just some kids in my class whispering about it. Somewhere around like 150 people are apparently going to jump Ursus tonight. I keep hearing people blame it on Itzal, but I don’t think it was him?? _

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ Me neither.  _

 

He clicks his tongue at his own bitterness. 

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ Do you happen to know where this event is going to be held? _

 

_ Blackfallstar9:  _

> _ I think in some park... Toyama I think. _

 

Izaya taps his fingers blankly around his keyboard for a bit.

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ How are they gonna get him there? _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ They kidnapped that little boy that Itzal saved a while ago and his mother. _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ At least that’s what I’ve heard. _

 

This kid. This poor kid is gonna have one hell of a fucked up childhood.

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ Why that kid? _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ Cause that guy that Itzal killed was the head of their gang?? I’m not sure... The White Cats?  _

 

Now Izaya blames himself for this boy’s misfortune, but he’s sure the kid would rather have this than the savage rape he would have been dealt had Izaya not stepped in.

 

_ Chrome: _

> _ Who the hell is that? _

 

_ Blackfallstar9: _

> _ Some new color gang. It’s a bunch of people with a death wish. They’ve been doing suicide missions way west in Kanto. It’s a stupid name if you ask me. _

  
Suicide missions? That would mean that the people attacking Ursus are trying to get him to kill them, however Izaya knows that, like Shizuo, Ursus wouldn’t kill them. And with that information, Izaya decides to drop in his assistance to the hero. He figured if he couldn’t find anything to do on his own, he’d go then, but now he’s going to actively seek him out. Izaya thanks the user for their help, and hand writes a sticky note, marking down that they seemed to know more than Shinichi, before sticking it to the bottom corner of his desktop. Izaya powers down his computer and summons his suit before floating to the window and pushing himself off toward Ikebukoro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be super action packed


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the first arc. Thank you so much to all of the readers. The second arc will be called “Everything Stays.” Please look forward to seeing that posted here. The first part of this three part journey has been an incredible adventure. Again, thank you so much, all of you. Every last one of you. (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Izaya forgot how peaceful it was to flow between the buildings and above all of the people below. They look like ants, all hustle and bustle, even in this late hour of the night. And on top of that, the luminescence of the buildings and cars look like he’s taking a picture with an unfocused camera. It reminds him of christmas lights, and for a minute he’s brought back to his childhood. The only  _ real _ family memories that stuck with Izaya are those that fell on Christmas. 

 

His parents never called on his birthday, and he sure as hell never saw them.  The only time that Izaya was sure he would get time with them was Christmas, when they were both home the day before Christmas Eve and stayed until two days after. He didn’t care about the presents as much as he did that plastic feeling of the holidays, where there was joy and warmth and none of the distant fear that seemed to lurk when ever their paths crossed. Around the time Izaya turned fourteen though, he figured out it was all just painted on. They still fought, and they still worked, however it was behind closed doors and out of sight. Izaya decided not to ruin the holiday for his little sisters, and thus he pretended that he didn’t hear the muffled shouting, or the business call his father had taken outside. He kept his mouth shut, and tugged on the horribly green cashmere sweater his parents got him. He smiled in the pictures. And Izaya sang the Christmas carols, while plucking his thin fingers between the piano keys, hoping their harmonies were enough to drown out the ringing cell phones and underlying bitterness.

 

But right now he’s spinning between the buildings and mentally preparing himself for a mass murder spree. They want to die anyway, and if Izaya doesn’t kill them, then they’re just gonna keep attacking. Izaya decides to land on top of Russia Sushi as he passes it, and uses his powers to look for Ursus amongst the other people. It’s alarming when he realizes just how many people are painted in white.

 

“Itzal! Come! Eat!”

 

Izaya’s focus is shattered by Simon, noticing him on top of his building. Maybe he shouldn’t have sat here. 

 

Izaya waves to him as everyone around them grab their phones to take pictures. He pushes off toward a nearby skyscraper, shooting off to avoid the screams from people still undecided on their stance of his existence. Once he’s up there, locating him is much easier, when he spots a certain armor clad obstruction who is currently holding up a bus in one hand and helping people out of it with the other. 

 

Izaya moves toward him, but doesn’t interfere. He sits on the edge of the concrete barrier of the highway the bus flipped over and watches. 

 

He’s taller than Izaya had originally thought. Upon closer inspection, Izaya recognizes that he’s all muscle. All lean... dense... muscle. Izaya bets that he could cut concrete with a jawline like that. Ursus also sports broad shoulder blades, which in turn draw out the definition of his back. And just like that Izaya is checking this guy out. He may be obnoxious, but he sure is easy on the eyes. 

 

It’s important to know about his body shape so that... Izaya knows...

 

...

 

How to fight him! Yeah!

 

It’s definitely not because he’s super gay. Ursus accepts the hug from the mother of five and he takes off again, but this time Izaya follows. He’s close enough to see him, but not close enough for Ursus to be tipped off to his presence. Ursus is running between buildings while Izaya follows behind him, shadowed in the inky darkness that surrounds his suit. 

 

Ursus turns left, then right. Then he ends up sprinting up the wall of a neighboring building, to which Izaya dances up the bricks. And once he gets to the top, the door that leads to the building’s roof top entrance is flying in his direction. Izaya instinctively shuts his eyes in preparation for the impact. However, it doesn’t come. When he peeks behind hooded lashes and the red film of his suit, he seems Ursus looking rather dumbfounded, and the door frozen in mid air about an inch from his neck. Izaya tries to act like keeping this thing in place isn’t making his brain want to shut down, so he bats his eyelashes and innocently tucks his folded hands under his chin.

 

Ursus shakes his head, his blonde hair swaying wildly.

 

“Why the hell are you following me?!” Ursus yells, and his gruff tone makes a shiver run up Izaya’s spine in the most undignified of ways. 

 

Izaya tosses the door aside and sticks his hands on his hips. “How did you know I was following you?”

 

“You smell like… rainwater and sadness. I sensed you when you when you showed up on that bridge. What the hell were you staring at up there anyway?”

 

“You.” It isn’t a lie, but it’s a lot less embarrassing than ‘hey, your ass looks great in those tights.’

 

“Why?”

 

Izaya steps further from the edge of the building, and drags one of his hands to the back of his neck. 

 

“I was serious the last time I saw you. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, especially when I have some information that may save your neck.”

 

Ursus glares and balls his hands into fists. “You remind me of someone.”

 

“And who would that be?” A wave of cold fear rises on Izaya’s skin.

 

“The epitome of human garbage.”

 

Well he couldn’t possibly be talking about Izaya. He’s amazing! Izaya relaxes a bit at that, but continues to keep his guard up.

 

“Well, that’s unfortunate. However about my info-”

 

Ursus snaps, “I don’t care about whatever info you think you have! Unlike some people, I’d rather distance myself from homicidal maniacs.”

 

“Are we gonna start with this again?” Izaya’s irritation spikes. This is  _ not  _ how he wanted this to go. At all.

 

“You slaughtered him!”

 

“He was a fucking rapist! We’ve had this discussion before. If you’re going to continue to justify his actions, then maybe you’re better off being left alone to figure it out for yourself.”

 

“I am  _ not, _ ” Ursus growls, “by any means justifying his actions. But if you’re gonna follow me around you can’t just  _ murder _ people.”

 

“They’re not people,” Izaya’s hisses. “They’re monsters.”

 

Ursus stares at him for a second, his gaze flicking across his face. “So what, are you a monster too, then?”

 

“Yes,” Izaya says sharply. “But I figured since I’m already a freak, I might as well take out the ones actually doing real harm.”

 

“Murder isn’t the way.”

 

“Yeah, okay Spider-Man,” He sighs. 

 

“Oi, who are you calling Spider-Man? You’re the captain of sarcasm and irritation.”

 

Izaya shoots Ursus an award winning smile that he can’t see. “Well at least you notice my strong suits!”

 

“And speaking of suits!” Ursus gestures to basically all of Izaya. “Do you even have a face?”

 

“Yeah, alright Zeiss,” Izaya smirks, “Where are your manners?”

 

“Wherever the hell your mouth is.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes.

 

“Can you even breathe? You don’t even have a nose.”

 

“That’s rich- getting the lecture on where I choose to add definition from the guy with abs carved into his chest plate.”

 

“Hey, shut up,” Ursus laughs, “I didn’t make the suit. A friend of mine did.”

 

Izaya is smiling gleefully at Ursus. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as Izaya had first thought. He definitely wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, however, he wasn’t a complete asshole. The banter was actually pretty refreshing given all interaction Izaya has had recently has been yelling and uncomfortable questions. 

 

“Anyway,” Ursus sighs, running a hand through his hair, “What did you want to tell me? It must be pretty important if you chased me down.”

 

Izaya steels his nerves, and tugs the smile from his face. “There’s a gang called the ‘White Cats’. Apparently there’s about a hundred and fifty of ‘em on their way to come kill you.”

 

Ursus scowls.

 

“It’s a suicide group, so they’re not gonna stop unless-”

 

“I’m not gonna kill anyone.”

 

Izaya growls, “I’m not expecting you to. I was just letting you know.”

 

“And how do you know? How do you know about this?”

 

Izaya blinks a couple of times while trying to come up with an excuse. “I saw it on a forum, and for your information, while I was looking for you, I think I saw some of your attackers. There’s a lot of them, way more than I thought there was gonna be when I first got wind of it.”

 

“I have Helectric,” he hisses, “I don’t need  _ you _ .”

 

Oh yes, the curvy blond sidekick that never shows up on time. Izaya rolls his eyes at his declaration. She is the definition of overrated, if he’s ever heard of one. She was just so  _ replaceable _ . It was easy to find another blue eyed, blond haired girl willing to drive her wanna-be batmobile to carpool with Ursus. Now Izaya, he was different. He was poetic, and strategic. He was dapper with more elegance and charisma than an expensive wine. It irked him that Ursus was so quick to shove him away in favor of such an ugly little thing, however, he was only doing this to get back at Shiki. And if that took being belittled by this sorry excuse for a hero in exchange for such a monotonous creature then so be it. 

 

“An extra set of hands can’t hurt.”

 

“No, but you can.” Ursus affirms, “You can do a lot of damage and harm, because you’re a fucking psychopath.”

 

Izaya’s powers swell, his anger evident in the static of the air around him. Darkness pools around him and begins to climb up his body in a black flame. A bright, radiant red rips from his eyes in glowing cracks across his face. 

 

Ursus’ ignorance was going to lead to his death.

 

“Fine,” Izaya states, his voice coming out with the distant screaming of the voices in his head, solidified in the real world with the break in Izaya’s constant domination. “I’ll be watching.” 

 

Ursus is staring at him, surprise evident in his body and what was visible of his face. He tried to reach out and stop Izaya, even going so far as to call  _ Itzal _ when his hands attempted to grip on the black fog as Izaya poofed himself away. 

 

How  _ dare _ he so bluntly point out what... Izaya didn’t want to come to terms with. Izaya opens his eyes to his apartment, dark and alone. More than anything, he was confused as to why he had returned home, but then he realizes that all of his anxiety is caused by the presence of others and thus he subconsciously returns home. Where he is sure he will be alone and isolated. 

 

God  _ damnit _ , he is just like Shizuo! He was exactly the same as Shizuo in his interactions with Izaya. He’s blunt about his distaste and he has a knack for pointing out exactly what Izaya doesn’t like about himself. He doesn’t even need to look at him for too long. For a minute Izaya thinks about those disgusting words that Shinra so carelessly drops in front of him. 

 

Anxiety.

 

Depression.

 

Mental illnesses that Shinra has labelled Izaya with. 

 

He wonders if Ursus would be able to pick up on them. He personally would never feel that those were things that a god such as himself would succumb to. But he was never a god. He was a monster. He was always a monster and he never wanted to admit it. However, monsters weren’t susceptible to mental illnesses either. It was a human thing. The depression and anxiety were just Izaya’s nature, his nature as a beast. 

 

And of course Shizuo was the one to point out that Izaya was crazy before Shinra had broken it down into its separate categories. There were specific boxes within pathways that Shinra had deposited him into. And it drove him crazy, in the metaphorical sense, that all three of these people; Shinra, Shizuo, and Ursus, mentally picked him apart with no real knowledge of how he was feeling about his life. His relationships. His thoughts. His feelings. They didn’t know any of it. And how could they when Izaya had tried so damn hard to push them all away? 

 

He runs a hand through his hair and tugs a bit roughly. He can’t take this. He’s losing his already broken mind and all because of that  _ hero. _ His only solace in this heap of shit is the knowledge that he is not the only one getting fucked over. He knows that he will not come out of this on top. Izaya has come to that understanding, and he has accepted his fate. But since he’s going down, he’s taking special precaution to take Shiki down with him. He remembers all of the abuse that Shiki put him through, preying on an innocent, ignorant young boy and establishing such an intense codependency for  _ years _ . Izaya became so self conscious about his appearance and his humans’ perception of him- things he never used to care about controlled his life and in turn, nearly broke him.

 

Almost.

 

He distanced himself from Shiki’s grasp when Shinra almost caught him about to kill himself. 

 

He sighs at the memory, and forces it away in place of his new task. Izaya summons his suit again and uses his powers to travel between the darkness painting his home and the shadowy underbrush of the trees in the park. The cool urban breeze that somehow manages to hit him through all of the trees around him is welcoming. It calms him a bit, and he chooses to focus on that rather than the ugly desperation for silence filling his senses. 

 

The park is full. Izaya places the number at around one seventy five. And in the middle, like a prize, a crying little boy and his mother, most likely unconscious from the nasty bleeding welt on the top of her head. The flurry of bright white covering the crowd made Izaya feel sick to his stomach. Ther utter surplus of the blinding color made his head scream and his eyes hurt, but then he’s guilty. He’s guilty because this boy is going the be traumatized by this experience, and it’s all his fault. And for a second, Izaya believes that maybe Ursus was right, and that murder isn’t the way to deal with something like this, but then he sees someone with a bloody bat in their hand with the words “Kill me” shittily spray painted onto their white hoodie and suddenly Izaya is no longer sympathetic of the life he’s taken. 

 

It’s easy for him to hide. His job is dependant on his ability to do so. So he sits. Izaya sits and waits.

 

...And waits....

 

...And waits...?

 

Hell, is Ursus ever gonna show up? Izaya was pretty concise with the severity of this situation. 

 

Izaya starts tracing out his finger in the dirt beneath his feet. He draws out a terrible sketch of Shinra, and then erases it and does it again. Then he does Celty, with her helmet of course. Next Dotachin and that group of friends he has. Next is Mr. Ryuugamine, which inspired Mikado and Anri. Then he draws out Seji and Mika, which included Namie. And then he does Shizuo. He sits back a little to admire his handiwork before silently wiping his hand through his sketches, wiping away the cat faces and dot eyes. 

 

That took about an hour and a half and apparently everyone is still waiting for Ursus. Izaya thinks for a minute about just springing into action, but no one really seems to be doing too much harm aside from tying up a single mom and her son, but aside from that, everyone is just kinda sitting there. And in addition to that, there’s no way Izaya would be able to do this entirely by himself. He may be on the cusp of a psychological breakdown as of late, but he’s not suicidal.

 

At least at the moment.

 

It’s almost three a.m., and Izaya realizes that he’s been hiding in the bushes, getting cut and poked by the spare twigs and leaves for almost three hours, and no one has said a word. The only noise is the dull roar of the distant city this park is in, and the crying of that little boy; Which is actually a bit impressive considering those crocodile tears are still spilling down his face. 

 

It’s three thirty.

 

What the fuck.

 

What’s worse is that Izaya can’t even take his phone out, or anything of that matter. He’s just  _ sitting there _ staring at all these people getting just as bored as he is. Maybe Ursus hasn’t shown up cause he can’t find them. They are all quiet as the dead, and this park is actually pretty big. But still, it’s not as though the gigantic white blob in the middle of the artificially placed forest is something that’s easy to miss.  

 

Then there’s a murmur among the crowd of people asking whether they should just leave or not, and Izaya entertains the same thought. Then there’s a loud pop as every overhanging light in the clearing comes alive with a bright blue shock of electricity before popping into a sprinkling of broken glass over the audience, and Izaya realizes that it’s  _ finally _ time.

 

Ursus slams through the crowd with an intimidatingly large copper hammer, the face being a bolt covered plate roughly the size of Izaya’s front door. Of course the cheek is branded with that stupid bear head. The handle is black and covered in what seems to be rubber? Izaya stares at Ursus’ hands, tightly coiled around the rod, wondering why on Earth there would need to be rubber, then Helectric charges the face and Ursus slams it down to scatter a crowd, and Izaya ignores the shiver up his spine. It would seem that he’s been left with a bit of PTSD in response to the lightning strike. 

 

After the shock dissipates, there’s a wave of bullets flying through the crowd, and Izaya snickers at the unfortunate souls who went down through friendly fire. 

 

As Izaya continues to watch, he realizes that he was right. The ones that are getting knocked down, just keep getting back up, and it’s obviously overwhelming the duo. Someone just smashed a two-by-four over Ursus’ head. A deep, feral growl erupts from in his throat and Izaya gets another unpleasant shiver. 

 

There’s the sound of cloth tearing, and that growl turns into a roar, and suddenly the hammer is dropped with a clang. A bear in armor now stands where Ursus once was. A  _ fucking bear _ . 

 

A bear with a bleeding head wound.

 

It charges the audience, tearing through the crowd and sending people flying in a wave of white. Izaya’s eyes scan for Helectric just to find her tied up with some sort of jumper cable. Whatever it was, it was inebriating her powers. His nose wrinkled in disgust as she tugged around weakly. There’s a strangled growl and Izaya looks around and finds Ursus, tied down to the grass with about thirty five more of those cables. There’s a gun cocked and pressed to the temple of the boy’s mother, and Izaya decides that he should intervene. 

 

He travels through shadows again and pin points the shadow cast across the pavement by the duo and appears in front of them just in time for the bullet to lodge itself in his leg. Surprisingly, the sting isn’t very impressive, and while it still hurts, quite a bit actually, he’ll manage. Izaya keeps up the indifferent bravado of an impenetrable hero. He uses his shadows to lock around the gunman’s neck with Izaya’s hand and lifts him of of the ground. Then he spears him like a fish. Blood pours down Izaya’s pike and puddles in deep red rivulets at his feet. Then he coughs as his life twitches out of him, spraying blood across his face and chest. Izaya feels it push through his shadows and Izaya feels much more disgusted in his actions. However when he drops the shooter and turns to check on the child, he’s no longer crying, but smiling up at Itzal. 

 

Ursus is back to his human form, copper armor grinding rather uncomfortably into his chest. He’s glaring at Izaya, not quite hatred, but maybe something akin to a dubious consent Izaya didn’t know he was looking for. It still looks angry, no doubt. But the chagrin and light blush that seems to dust his brightly lit face is enough to push Izaya to hurry up and get this over with.

 

The group has directed their attention back to Izaya, closing in like a pack of wolves on prey. He clicks his tongue like a mother scolding her child and pools his power to his midsection. Then he shoots it out in an absolute barrage of black knife-like spears to the audience before him, keeping the boy and his mother tightly wrapped in a black protection barrier. Most of them hit the deck, either dead or close to it. Some of them fled with their bleeding wounds and Izaya thinks back to Rio, and her reluctance to die once she stared death in the face. Of the once mighty army of the  _ White Cats _ or whatever, About fifty were knocked out by the hammer and the crazy ass bear. A good fifteen ran. 

 

The rest were dead.

 

Izaya is coated in the blood of the dead, dripping and cooling against his skin as he welcomes the darkness back to his core. There’s a hideously disgusting sense of completion and fullness that Izaya knows he should be more concerned about, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care the the moment. He feels...

 

Content...

 

With the out come.

 

At least until a powerful fist crashes into his face and sends him tumbling into the concrete. That bullet in his leg has violently woken up and there is pain assaulting his nerves once again. Izaya’s nose is definitely bleeding now, not broken though. He’s also got a bit of road rash on the palms of his hands, but that could not be any more insignificant. Ursus is glowering at him. The look doesn’t sit well with Izaya. 

 

Then Ursus wraps one hand around his hip and grabs his shoulder, and Izaya practically melts in the worst possible way. He tugs him to his feet and brushes the dust off of Izaya’s torso with a rough drag of those large, powerful hands before pulling back like he’s been burned.

 

“Jeez, I’ve got gloves on and you’re still like ice. Are you alright?” Ursus asks in that deeply candid voice of his.

 

It’s actually funny that he thinks Izaya’s cold. Cause he is feeling very  _ very fucking hot _ . 

 

“I’m uh...” He clears his throat, realizing this is no way for the feared ‘Orihara of Shinjuku’ to be behaving. “I’m fine. Leg hurts a little though.”

 

Which is apparently the wrong thing to say. 

 

Ursus immediately bends down, and places a firm yet gentle grasp on Izaya’s leg to turn his thigh. Once he’s got a sufficient view of Izaya’s bloody inner leg, he removes possibly the smallest pair of tweezers Izaya has ever seen in his life from his belt, and pulls his head up to stare at Izaya, who is sporting a rather undignified blush underneath his suit.

 

“This is gonna hurt a little.” 

 

He brushes a finger down the length of Izaya’s lateral thigh in a nearly sensual way. Ursus presses the wound open a bit, and Izaya hisses at the burn. It didn’t really hurt at first, but now that Izaya has noted that majority of the blood puddle below him and Ursus was his, the pain was near incomparable. To put it into words, it was the dull pain of a bruise mixed with a harsh pain of a cut. Just much worse. Much,  _ much _ worse. It was like getting hit by a car and then getting cut with the broken windshield. Except that car is a semi and Izaya just got shoved through eight panes of glass, breaking every one and landing in the pile of shards.

 

But then there’s a comforting warmth. It’s a certain reassurance that better holds him and reminds him that a close range pistol is better than a close range shotgun.

 

His shadows took most of the momentum from the bullet, which is why it stopped just shy of shattering the bone. It still hurt, however, but it could be a lot worse. He feels the tweezers go in, however he also feels the reassuring squeeze from Ursus just a bit too close to his junk then he would like. Then they come out and there is an uncomfortable gust of wind followed by a gush of blood, then the pressure of Ursus’ glove pushing into the open wound. He gingerly places a bandage, also from his belt, on the wound and coils his hands around Izaya’s leg, getting dangerously close to grazing past-

 

And he’s standing up!

 

Standing just tall enough for Izaya to have to look up at him. The solid four inch height difference isn’t helping Izaya’s current situation. His brain traces back to those thoughts from earlier that night: strong jaw, lean muscles, and Izaya would bet money that he’s got kind eyes given how delicate he had just been wrapping up Izaya’s leg. Damn those horrid copper goggles. 

 

Ursus takes Izaya’s hand and he has to stop from tearing it back. Then he drops a cold object in his palm and drags his bloody white glove to the back of his neck. It’s the bullet, and Izaya decides that he’s gonna put it on a necklace or some other sort of keepsake. 

 

It’s the first time he’s ever been shot. Gotta remember it somehow. 

 

“I can’t believe you just  _ killed _ all those people.”

 

And at those words Izaya is snapped out of his drift, “That, or you can’t believe that I was right! I told you they wouldn’t stop till you were dead.”

 

“Or they were.” Ursus growled. “Look, if you’re gonna try to be a superhero, you need to adapt ways of defending the innocent without leaving a blood bath behind.” 

 

He gestures to the park, painted in red like a slaughter house complete with the dead corpses. There’s the same gradient black covering the entry and exit wounds of each of their bodies.

 

“What even is that? Ash?”

 

“I’m not even sure,” Izaya laughs. “It’s not lethal- I know that much.”

 

He was unbelievably easy to talk to and it was actually a bit alarming to Izaya. Here was this man, one in fact that Izaya had hated about a month and a half ago, laughing with him like they were old friends. And hey, maybe they would be now. Izaya lost his malicious intent and Ursus seemed somewhat accepting of Izaya’s methods, if not attempting to change them. Izaya was fine with that, he guessed. It wouldn’t be interesting if this guy agreed with everything he did. 

 

Ursus nods in the direction of the black orb, still holding onto the boy and his mother, left entirely in the silent embrace of the dark. 

 

“You should probably let ‘em go.”

 

Izaya waves his hands and the shadow dissipates with a faint hiss. His mother is awake, and she looks terrified, but then slightly relieved at the sight of Izaya and Ursus. Then she sees the blood and the broken trees from the bear and the shattered concrete from the hammer that is now inexplicably nowhere to be seen. And neither is Helectric... now that Izaya thinks about it. But now that mom is trying to do what any mom would do; protect her son. 

 

Izaya flicks a pike from their shadow to cut through the rope tying their backs together, and she immediately pulls her child into a crushing hug, crying into his hair. Izaya is consumed with an irrational longful jealousy at the blatant display of her love. He wonders what it would have been like to have his mom hold him, or smile at him, or show some inkling that he wasn’t the worst mistake she had ever made. Or that his death would mean nothing to her. Or that his sisters weren’t eons more meaningful in her eyes

 

“You alright?”

 

Right. 

 

He can’t dwell on his poor relationship with his family, right now he needs to focus on the task at hand. Ursus is waiting for his next move, the concern evident in the small bit of his face that Izaya can see. He nods, it’s a lie and he knows that Ursus can see that, but he doesn’t press further while Izaya extends his hand to the mother, still holding onto her son like her life depends on it. She stands, obviously having some trouble, and Ursus delicately wraps an arm around her waist to steady her while Izaya gestures to the boy to come into his arms. She lets him leave, a bit too trusting for Izaya’s taste, however these two  _ were _ supposed to be the heroes. Izaya wraps his arms underneath the boy and holds him close to his chest. 

 

“We should take them to a hospital,” Izaya whispers, smiling to himself at the child who immediately passed out in his arms. Poor kid’s been under a bit too much stress for someone his age.

 

Ursus nods, and picks up the woman bridal style while Izaya’s feet catch underneath him as he prepares to take flight.

 

“Hey wait,” Ursus cries, a little desperate, “I can’t fly.”

 

Izaya wants to laugh. He sounds so scared that Izaya drops to the concrete again and walks by his side. He nudges Ursus with his shoulder to start walking, which he does, and Izaya can practically feel the fevered blush spreading across the other’s face. The woman succumbs to sleep as well, obviously overworked and stressed out. He can only hope that this woman will do the sensical thing upon being released from the hospital, and that is  _ move away _ , but for now, she sleeps. From the appearance of the head wound she’s made it through the danger stage. They walk among the back roads, avoiding anyone and everyone, in a comfortable silence that Izaya could feel himself getting used to. 

 

The arrive at the hospital, the nurse looking between a mixture of horrified and starstruck when the they come in. Then she remembers her job, and calls a few other nurses to take the mother and child out of their custody. They leave before any questions can be asked, deciding that Itzal’s bounty is gonna be enough questions for them to answer in the morning.

 

Make that later today.

 

Izaya flies up to the edge of a building, it’s one of the tallest in the area and stares out east. Ursus clears the fire escape in record time and plops down beside Izaya.

 

“Sorry about punching you in the face earlier,” he says, looking a little embarrassed.

 

Izaya grins like a cat, “Oh you...  _ bear _ -ly hit me.”

 

He freezes so violently that Izaya almost laughs himself off the edge of building.

 

“Are... Are you kidding me? Was that a bear pun? Did you just drop a fucking bear pun on me? And I thought we were just starting to be friends.”

 

Izaya smiles back at him. “So we’re friends now?”

 

“Yeah,” Ursus watches the sun rise above Ikebukoro’s skyline. “I mean, if you wanna be.”

 

There’s an orange tint in the air. The crispness of it tells of the coming winter. It all seems so hopeful and delicate in Izaya’s mind, at least for a while. He’s got Shinra back now, and eventually he’ll befriend Shizuo, now that they have an equal ground. They both want peace. Izaya wants peace and quiet. And in this moment he has them both.

 

“You zone out a lot, Itzal,” Ursus nudges him.

 

“Is it that a- _ bear _ -ent?” Izaya grins.

  
Ursus shoves him off the edge with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if any of you would be interested if I adding smut to this fic. I was thinking of doing it anyway, and I have some sections picked out. By the way, wolfpoots and I made a meme powerpoint presentation. It’s a collection of slides that relate to the story with reaction images so if any of you want to see that, drop me a line and I’ll be sure to send it over. There are spoilers however, but they are hidden underneath a slide clearly marked “Spoilers.” Anyway, thank you one last time from the bottom of my heart, really. I looks forward to seeing you all in ”Everything Stays” and even after that in the third and final arc, ”Love Like You”
> 
> This is nightmareStag, signing off for the last time with wolfpoots.
> 
> (σ≧∀≦)σ


	9. Chapter 9

This isn't actually an update, but the second arc is up! Woo!

Part two of the Night Watch series: Everything Stays

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5895109/chapters/13588585

There you go

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at actually-the-devil.tumblr.com
> 
> and wolfpoots at wolfpoots.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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